


Razor's Edge

by Slynx



Series: Phoenix [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes has PTSD, Slow Burn, TW: Blood, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22097410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slynx/pseuds/Slynx
Summary: The easiest way to create a good lie was to stray along the razor's edge of truth, twist it believably, and give just enough detail to lend credibility.The Reaper has joined Overwatch. However, the longer he stays, the more he begins to realize that not all is as it seems. What is real? Where does the lie end and the truth begin? Most importantly, is Gabriel Reyes as dead as Reaper believes him to be?
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Phoenix [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553611
Comments: 53
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

It was a well-known fact that Talon had been using the Reaper to their own ends for years. It was, perhaps, a lesser-known fact that the Reaper had been using Talon just as much (if not more) so to further his vendetta against Overwatch and the maggots that had escaped the Swiss base. Who cared if Talon didn't give two shits about him so long as he could use their resources and complete his work? That said, there was perhaps one person within Talon that did not quite fit the mold. Sombra, despite her play towards loyalty, held no allegiance to any one cause unless it was to her benefit. It made her a volatile ally, but perhaps one he could still turn to despite recent events.

Reaper leaned forward, thumbs idly massaging temples as he sat on the standard-issue bed, feet flat on the ground. The room was familiar and yet alien, the kind that had been given to his subordinates rather than their former commander. One queen bed (a luxury really), a wooden desk with a hard-backed chair, a single dresser with three drawers and a small closet atop it, and an adjoining bathroom with shower, toilet, sink, and mirror. The lights were LEDs, the kind that were just on the edge of too bright, and he'd thus shut them off the moment he'd arrived. A small window overlooked the Spanish cliffs below, the drop sickening and yet offering a satisfactory view of the ocean beyond. It would have been a dream room for any soldier stationed here back in the day. _Ha_. That was, of course, excluding the ones who had never wanted to be there.

The comm lay ready for use on the desk, Reaper eyeing it again. This entire plan banked on Sombra's willingness to assist him and the knowledge that he had to rely on her mercy rubbed him the wrong way entirely. The sooner he could get the intel he needed, the sooner he could work his way under Overwatch's skin and be free of all of this. So…why was he hesitating?

…Fuck it.  
Reaper snagged the device and looped it around the remaining portion of his left ear, the display archaic but easy enough to manipulate. Calling Sombra was infinitely more complicated; her comm unit was set up on a relay system that required four separate wavelengths to be accessed. Fortunately, he'd memorized the codes long ago.

The line rang once, twice, and abruptly picked up. A crackle of static-

\--

"Hey." Her lines had been oddly silent over the past few days, Talon reeling internally from the loss of one of its council members and thus suspending all further missions until further notice. Not that it was much of a concern; with the second Omnic Crisis in full swing, it really didn't matter what happened with Talon at this point. They were all sitting back on their asses and gloating, the fools. Sombra huffed, finishing off all but the last bit of her concha before swiping her current work from the screen. Time to see where her mysterious caller was contacting her from, perhaps? "¿Qué onda?"

\--

"Hello Sombra."

\--

…The last of her concha fell to the ground from limp fingertips. Sombra stared at the screen numbly. Then, a grin cracked lopsidedly across her face.

"I _knew it._ I knew it! I _knew_ you had to be alive."

The location popped up; if she hadn't dropped her concha before, she certainly would have now. The Mexican whistled low, eyebrows popping up to nearly the edge of her implants.

"You're in Gibraltar? As in…Watchpoint: Gibraltar?" Curiosity overweighed any judgement she might have held. 

\--

"It's a long story." So far, so good. She seemed friendly enough…though it suddenly occurred to Reaper that he'd have to disclose the reason for his sudden 'abandonment' of Talon. He couldn't hold back the wince. "I'll trade you information for information. This can't get back to Talon…yet."

\--

"Deal!" He was alive! Talon could hang for all she cared. Sombra twirled in her chair giddily for a moment before forcing herself to focus. This was exclusive information, after all. It wouldn't be wise to turn down such an offer.

"Tell me everything, Gabe." She'd never realized how much she would miss the gruff voice once she'd been told it would never be heard again.

\--

"Don't call me that." Fuck- okay. Summarize.

"I've…been having episodes." Reluctantly, Reaper admitted to the truth of the situation Sombra had come across outside the Talon gun range weeks ago. "One moment, I'm here. The next, my head is somewhere else but I appear to be reacting to the situation in real time."

\--

That was unexpected to say the least. Eyes narrowing, Sombra switched over to the Talon side of her databases. "I'll get your medical file and see if I can find any possible causes."

\--

Always three steps ahead. Heh. Reaper felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Akande called me down to the pit to watch 76's demise. Then, I wasn't there. I was fighting an OR-14 and mowing down omnic units in the original Omnic Crisis. Next thing I know, Akande had his gauntlet through my chest."

The walk to the room had helped to clear his head, Morrison strangely quiet even as they'd reached the threshold, offering only the briefest of farewells and a 'good luck' before walking away. It was, perhaps, a show of good will and trust. All in all, it was unexpected and, though incessant talking would have been far worse, Reaper couldn't help the odd foreboding feeling the entire situation had left him with. 76 knew something he was not saying aloud. Perhaps due to the AI in the base? Even if these _were_ his allies- well. Perhaps they were not his allies just yet. Fine by him. 

\--

He'd what?! Doomfist had- that explained a few things. A shrill alarm sounded as Talon's firewall buckled under her assault, the medical records playing hard-to-get. Sombra grumbled. "Clearly, you healed though."

\--

"He damaged my implants. It wasn't that simple."

\--

 _Ohhhh._ That wasn't any good. Lifting a hand from her work, Sombra's nails scratched lightly at her leg, mind whirling back a time before her implants. Should her own be damaged, the physical impact would be devastating. Reaper's implants were different from her own but no less impactful, surely. Sombra winced sympathetically.

"So? How'd you get away?"

\--

Now for the part he hadn't quite parsed out. "Morrison." Reaper admitted reluctantly. "Somehow, he convinced Overwatch that I saved his life."

\--

"¿Es en serio?" Sombra blinked, then snorted a laugh. "Wait, so you're in Overwatch right now and NOT in a cell?"

\--

"They think that I've been attempting to take down Talon from the inside." Reaper deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. It sounded even more ridiculous out loud in the relative quiet of the room. "So I now have twenty-four hours to procure proof."

\--

 _Information for information._ Tricky tricky! Sombra tugged at the medical file, finally within reach- but it seemed stuck. Hm. Skimming it gave little clue as to why it- ah. Several pieces were classified. Fun! This might take longer than expected but she'd get that file.

"What all do you want, Gabe?" She couldn't help teasing him a bit. "I think I'd crash your communicator if I threw the whole database at you."

\--

"Te pasas de lanza." He didn't need the full database to prove it. "Tax documents, blueprints, lists of names. Any of that up your alley?"

\--

"Pff. Who do you take me for?" She had the files up in seconds, grinning even wider as she sent them out. "Had them for safekeeping. I bet they'll seal the deal for you."

\--

The datapad beside him gave a soft 'ping' as files downloaded off of his comm, Reaper pulling up the intel with interest. Yes, this would work perfectly. Annual tax returns for the past five years, blueprints for the Rialto headquarters, a partial listing of Talon operatives, and…footage from the council meeting with the Null Sector representative before the Paris attack? Hm. Odd choice but useful.  
\--

"Found the footage of your fight with Doomfist, by the way." Sombra whistled again, this time partially impressed. "Doubt I could have planned the whole thing better myself if we were going to try to insert you to Overwatch."

\--

The clip bounced up on the screen, starting with a visual on the pit from the same video stream he'd watched from the dropship a few days prior. Moments in, Reaper's breath hitched as he watched himself fall into a Death Blossom, killing most of the Talon troops instantly and knocking Akande back and off of Morrison. He'd- he'd _thrown the pulse rifle back too?_ That part had been foggy but it really looked like a team-up to take down Doomfist between the two of them. Beyond the odd dialogue Reaper heard himself spouting (interesting to note that he remembered saying nearly the same within the 'episode'), it seemed to be a legitimate betrayal of Talon.

The crunch of broken bones and implants made Reaper's face twitch with muscle memory. Helix rockets exploded in Akande's face, the last bit of the clip showing 76's form fleeing the scene with a familiar black shape over his shoulder. It was no wonder Talon thought him dead, Reaper found himself thinking numbly. The amount of viscera on the ground from Doomfist's hit was…impressive.

\--

"Hey. You okay?" Sombra asked quietly. Reaper had always closed off when she'd asked him before, but maybe now that he was on his own he might want to open up? This was more than just data collection, she admitted to herself.

\--

"It's nothing." Nothing to be concerned about, nothing he planned to deal with in the short-term. For now, his plans consisted of staying in Overwatch and figuring out a way to funnel OW data to Talon. Then, he could assist from within, facilitating a takedown that would crush both the organization and Jack Morrison under his heel. This was the first step.

…Actually.

"Hm. These files-" Brushing the screen gingerly, Reaper read through the tax documents without digesting a word, thoughts clicking into place. "I don't suppose there would be a way to attach an implanted bug to funnel information back to you and to Talon once the files are within the Overwatch server?"

\--

Ha! "Now you're thinking like a true hacker!" Concern set aside, Sombra cooked up an appropriate virus in moments and tied it back to a new slot in her Overwatch database. Untraceable once within the system, she'd soon have a torrent of intel they'd all dreamed of getting their hands on. Waving one hand in a mock-wave, she sent it Gabe's way.

"Once you transfer the files, this will latch onto the server and stay there as long as the documents are in the system."

\--

"Good." He watched as the downloaded file disappeared into the fray of the 'evidence'. That ought to do the trick.

\--

"You really think you can fool them long enough?" It was one thing to get in. Staying in was always the issue. Sombra sighed as the Talon medical bay files booted her out momentarily, the hacker pausing her attack to concentrate on the call. "What's the angle, boss?"

\--

 _Boss_. Something about that calmed his frayed nerves. Reaper's eyes narrowed, finally digesting the material within the files.  
"They're offering me probationary membership once they get the files. I'll use that to find a way under their skin. Between that and the data, it should be child's play to finish them off."

\--

"Aren't a lot of those guys your old buddies though?" Nothing like a little backstabbing. Sombra's eyes rolled.  
"Seems kinda personal."

\--

True. This wasn't exactly a regular operation where he didn't know the target and could work his way in via pure intimidation or with a card-holding version of sweet talk. The entire charade depended on reviving the personality of a man several years dead, one he still wasn't entirely sure how to step into the shoes of yet. 'Reaper' would never be accepted here, certainly. Gabriel Reyes…had been trusted and had a chance of being trusted again. The question was HOW to find Reyes without triggering these damn episodes.  
"Just try sticking to the plan, Sombra."

\--

"Look, someone has to be ready when all your careful planning doesn't pan out." Sighing, she kicked her legs up onto the desk and leaned back in the chair, examining her nails. "What about Soldier 76?"

\--

Reaper's hackles rose, the mercenary bristling. "What _about_ him?"

\--

"You saved his life, right? You don't think he'll, y'know, stick to your side like glue? Weren't you two friends or someth-"

\--

"I'll deal with that later." He interrupted scathingly, near hissing. "He is _not_ my _friend_."

\--

"Riiiiight." Sombra poked at the screen, attempting a secondary access of the medical file. "I'm going to let you deal with your not-friend, then, while I work on this file. I'll send it your way once I have more of it- looks like you've got some fun stuff locked up in here. Also, no payment required. The data you're providing from Overwatch is payment enough for now." 

\--

Hm. Good. Not like he could access any funds from here anyway…yet. Sombra could surely do something about that as well. Perhaps later.  
"…" His mouth opened, then shut. What was he thinking? He never thanked her for this sort of thing. It would just overinflate her already-massive ego.

"I'll send a message once the bug is set. Reaper out."

\--

Her legs slid back down, hand sneaking back into the half-empty box of conchas as the connection cut. Sugar replaced the trepidation on her tongue, despite the concern that lingered. This was much more important than the work she'd been attempting earlier. Why wouldn't the Talon medbay database give up its secrets? Hm. Whatever was in here held critical information needed for Gabe on his mission. If those episodes didn't get under control, Reaper was a dead man. Well. More than usual.

Sombra prided herself on having not teased him about the clearly-upsetting condition, brow furrowing slightly as she considered the odd situation. The medical file would have answers but surely wouldn't explain why this hadn't been treated sooner. The question was…why?

She'd find out soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Angela Ziegler's hands slammed down, the conference table shuddering under the surprising force of the assault.  
"He is CLEARLY lying. Why will no one take this seriously?"

"We have to give him the benefit of the doubt until the twenty-four hours are up." Despite the semi-confident tone, Winston sat on the floor, left fingers and toes wound together and squeezing anxiously. The gorilla rocked back and forth slightly, swallowing as the doctor rounded on him. "If he isn't lying-"

"He IS! Think of the _damage_ he can do in twenty-four hours-"

"We can't confirm-"

" _Winston,_ think of the people on this base! How can we possibly protect them when the real threat is coming from _inside_ -"

The door to the half-filled conference room opened, Jack Morrison's figure cutting a still rather impressive silhouette despite the slumped shoulders and casual clothing. Crossing to the table, he sat heavily in one chair as the argument rose in pitch, side-eyeing the other silent participants in the room. Lena paced…well, more like _hopped_ from side to side not far from Winston, her usual positive attitude diminished in the wake of Angela's righteous fury. Three chairs down, Ana rose her cup in greeting upon gaining his attention, his former second-in-command shaking her head at the commotion before taking another sip of what _had_ to be tea she'd procured from somewhere in the base. Incredible. Jack had to suppress a chuckle despite the situation. It was as if she could sense when tea was nearby, a bloodhound with a nose for herbal caffeine-

"He will murder us IN OUR SLEEP! If Morrison had not come in when he had, _he would have murdered ME!_

__

Something below his collarbone tightened, Jack's head snapping up and eyes narrowing. "Right. You pointing a gun at him had nothing to do with it."

__

Angela hissed, rounding on him and stalking to the table. "I pulled a gun because he somehow teleported himself out of his monitors and bed and came at me _in the nude_ while telling me that tranquilizers no longer worked on him. He-"

__

"Stop." Jack raised his hand.

__

"How DARE you ask me to-"

__

"Angela. _Stop_. I'm not trying to discredit your view of what happened. You have the right to protect yourself." Jack said quietly, his words carrying weight he hadn't tried balancing in years. "I only ask that you consider the fact that Reyes fell unconscious as a double agent and woke in an unfamiliar environment with an unexpected face as his first company. His reaction to you doesn't lend him credibility, sure. But you can't deny that he acted in an expected fashion when I _know for a fact_ that he has routinely had less-than-congenial reactions to medical bay visits in the past."

__

…Silence fell.

__

Slow clapping broke the moment. All eyes turned to Ana, cup set on the table as she stopped, lowering her hands even as slightly evil smile perked her lips.  
"The Strike Commander is dead. Long live the Strike Commander."

__

Jack made a disgusted sound, face twisting uncomfortably. "Shut up, Ana." It held little heat. Despite it all, he found himself shrinking into his chair a bit, legs splaying under the table and arms crossing tightly across his chest.

__

"Much as Jack and I have disagreed in the past, I agree with him on this." The Egyptian sniper hummed, picking up her cup once more. "Gabriel became more volatile over time, even within Overwatch. He has now spent over a half decade within enemy forces. It is natural for him to be paranoid." She took a sip, letting the words linger in the air. "That said, no one on base should be frightened for their safety. Athena is always watching even when we aren't. She is the one who came to your aid and alerted Jack about the situation, did she not, Angela?"

__

"…Yes." Pulling the chair free from its spot at the table, Angela sank down, looking perhaps more troubled than before. "But Reyes knows this base. Surely, he knows the blind spots of this facility. If he exploits those, he could take us down one at a time."

__

"He could." Winston admitted, digits finally dislodging as he sat up. "But he won't."

__

"What makes you so sure?" Ana asked calmly, head cocking to the side as he rose.

__

"I assisted Angela in repairing Reaper's implants. We, er-" the scientist scratched his head sheepishly. "I didn't fully repair a few of the connections on the off-chance he turned on us. I figured that he, uh- if he really did try to hurt anyone, he'd be taken off-guard by not having all of his…for lack of a better term, _powers_ readily available."

__

He'd WHAT?! Jack nearly shot up from his seat, a silent scream lodged in the back of his throat. "You gave him twenty-four hours to get proof _while injured_ and _without full control of his faculties_?!"

__

"I just disengaged the nanite wraith movements a bit! I- uh-" Winston shrank back a bit under the former Strike Commander's glare. "I'm fairly sure. It shouldn't affect anything important. That is, I mean…anything important he'd need somewhere besides a fight. It gives us an advantage should he try anything-!"

__

"And once he proves that he's innocent of all of these accusations, you'll fix this?" Jack asked evenly, teeth grinding a bit. Damnit, had Gabe not suffered enough yet?! Clearly not.

__

"I will." A deep breath in and out seemed to center the gorilla, Winston finally returning Jack's gaze with more confidence. "I also meant it about giving him probationary membership and returning his weaponry. He's a founding member of the organization, after all. But…" the glare was suddenly returned to his former boss. "I cannot discount the trail of bodies he has left behind him. Nor can I fully discount the trail of bodies _you_ have left as Soldier 76 either."

__

Lena froze, eyes wide. Wait, what? No, the Strike Commander hadn't actually _murdered_ anyone in cold blood, had he?

__

Huh. Winston had finally grown a set finally. Jack's lips pressed together, head tilting forward, his crossed arms squeezing tighter across his chest.  
"I don't regret a single bit of it. I doubt Reyes does either."

__

Ana exhaled noisily, eye visibly rolling. In the past, she would have tried to explain Jack's bull-headed stubbornness to the room…but no one in the room was interested in that kind of diplomacy, surely, including herself.

__

Fortunately, a pleasant beeping from above cut them all off before a new argument could start.

__

_'Commander Reyes has sent a file via his tablet which seems to include his proof as a double agent. Shall I set up the projection for display of the contents?'_ Athena seemed almost cheery. _'Additionally, as you have asked for his coordinates during this time, I can confirm that the Commander has not yet left his room._ '

__

"Yes! Set up the projection." Winston near-jumped forward, a special chair off on one side of the table supporting his form easily, limbs taking up a good portion of the table as he leaned in eagerly. "Let's see what he has here."

__

Still in his room. Good. Angela's teeth ground but she found herself nodding sharply. Her dislike for the situation was at least documented now and steps were being taken to correct it, Winston's half-repair and Athena's observations in particular helping to put a few of her fears to rest. Still…the fear lingered like a bad stench.

__

In short order, documents popped up on the table's glass display in front of each filled chair. Lena quickly popped over to a chair to take a look, a new display appearing once the seat was filled.

__

"Are these…" Winston blinked, eyes growing ever-wider. "Tax- hey! These are tax returns! How would he have gotten these?!"

__

Unfortunately, the answer was easy to find. Jack swiped forward, heart jumping into his throat as he found what he'd been hoping not to find.  
"They were probably easily accessible-" with a double-tap of two fingers, the incriminating page appeared above the table, zoomed in on a particular section. "-given he's listed under the board of directors."

__

_"What?"_ Ana hissed, reading through the list of names. Akande Ogundimu was a known quantity, as were Vialli and Maximilien. Even Sanjay Korpal as a 'member-at-large' and Moira O'Deorain came as little surprise. But 'Gabriel Reyes'-? And-  
"Why is _William Petras_ listed here as _President_?"

__

A hush fell over the room. Surely, this was not _the_ William Petras, Director of Overwatch in its last year and, before that, UN liaison to Overwatch? Surely not the Petras whose name literally branded the organization and all Overwatch activities as illegal-?

__

The display abruptly disappeared as Jack Morrison's chair crashed backwards against the wall, the former Strike Commander's hands clenched in fists.  
"MotherFUCKER!"

__

_'Commander Morrison, would you like me to-'_

__

"Do NOT call me that! Fucking _hell_ -" Jack stormed out, one hand gripped into his hair as he swore in a steady stream, door slamming behind him.

__

Lena moved to get up and follow, but a hand settled on her forearm before she could. Ana gave her a sympathetic look.

__

"Give him space, ḥabïbti." She patted the pilot's arm twice, retreating only once she was sure Lena would not get up. "It's best to let him work this out himself sometimes."

__

\--

__

_King's Row, London- 2047_

__

_The pincer movement was an unexpected one from the omnic forces. The God programs were learning perhaps **too** quickly. Dropping to a squat behind the corner of a badly damaged storefront, Gabriel hoisted one shotgun over his shoulder, letting the automatic reload within his armor click bullets into place as he analyzed the new situation. The charges on the omnium processors were set and ready to blow as soon as they could all get clear but the omnics sure weren't making the tactical retreat as easy as previously hoped._

__

_No matter. They'd make it out, one way or another._

__

_"Ana, I need eyes on the left flank! Torb, turrets on the right."_

__

_'They're twenty units strong. I'll take down a quarter by the time they file in.' She smoothly informed him over the comm, sniper rifle cracking comfortingly in the background. He could almost hear the shriek of the omnic she'd downed._

__

_'Ha! I've already got a quarter down!' Gabriel felt a grin flash across his face. Oh boy. 'Take that, Amari!'_

__

_'One OR unit still only counts as one, Gimli.' Ana deadpanned through the comms. 'Reyes, tell me you've found an opening?'_

__

_"Yep." Grunting, Gabriel pushed himself up and chanced a look back. Jack grinned back, blood already dried across his forehead from where a bullet had grazed his skin. Damn fool was reckless but, then again, Gabriel knew he wouldn't have it any other way. The Commander of Overwatch flicked the pale, blood-freckled nose as they exchanged adrenaline-fueled looks. "Ready?"_

__

_"Sure. Plan?" Jack picked off an omnic close enough to peek its head around the corner, pulse munitions steaming from the new experimental rifle he'd been gifted as part of the international Strike Team. The gun seemed to overheat constantly, but surely they'd fix that in post-production. For now, it was as good a weapon as Jack had ever used on the field._

__

_"Yep. Reinhardt, clear a path to the right! Get Torb- the two of you should be able to cut your way through to the dropship. Ana, pick off those that you can. Jack and I will rendezvous with you in the middle and act as escort to rejoin with them." Gabriel readied himself, whole body tensed like a spring. "On three. One. Two. Thr-"_

__

_"HAAAAhahahahaha!" Reinhardt's massive armored form shot out, pinning three omnics to the wall with a mighty crash that seemed to shake the earth. "Got you!"_

__

_Shaking his head, Gabriel forced himself to hold in the snicker that tempted him, a look at Jack not helping as his SEP mate was clearly struggling to hold in laughter as well, form shuddering and bottom lip bitten.  
"Someday, he'll get it. I-"_

__

_…Pounding. Gabriel's head shot up. That wasn't Reinhardt. That was-_

__

_"Fuck." He hissed. Bastions. Fucking Bastions! Pounding, pounding closer- they needed a new plan NOW. There was no time left to wait!_

__

_Shoving himself out from cover, Gabriel blasted the omnics before them into scrap, more following in the chug of pulse munitions behind him. The Bastions weren't far off, but perhaps they had an advantage if they could-  
"Ana, get to Reinhardt and Torbjörn without us if you can."_

__

_'Uʻlim wa yunafadh.' Ana proclaimed over the comm, Gabriel's eyes momentarily lifting upwards and catching glimpse of a blue coat disappearing on the tail end of a jump from rooftop to rooftop. Good- she'd be out of the crossfire. Now-_

__

_'I have found the enemy!' Reinhardt's voice roared electronically, the two Americans skidding to a stop and giving each other a knowing look. They'd need to distract the omnics away from the other three momentarily to give them a headstart-_

__

_Helix rockets blasted a hole in the omnic forces, the sudden influx of 'bots halted momentarily to stare over at the two. Jack laughed, reloading his rifle and raising it once more. "I'm just getting started!"_

__

_Another rocket launch rocked them back, Gabriel giving a snort of amusement and reloading his shotguns. Of course, then the damn Bastions came into view and settled down into turret mode. Swearing, he reached out to grab Jack by the collar and yank them to cover but a new blast sent them both off their feet and to the hole-littered pavement._

__

_Eardrums ringing, Gabriel groaned and pushed himself up from the rubble. SHIT. The omnium was coming down any second now and they needed to evac. NOW. Reyes hissed out a breath as he looked down, realizing that the distraction Morrison had made had worked to clear the strike team but for one member, a certain second-in-command held out at arms-length by an OR-14 unit, energy sword held high as it aimed to punch right through his SEP mate's chest. Jack had apparently been blown right into the enemy. Shiiiiit. Gabriel's stomach twisted, knowing he had mere seconds to act. It was now or never._

__

_He'd been working on a new technique in training, combining old moves with new. With little to lose, he sprang out and into the action, Gabriel twisting on his feet and firing out with deadly accuracy. It felt like time slowed to a degree, Reyes being sure to empty both shotguns and send several shots into the OR unit holding Jack._

__

_"Eat that, chipbrains." Gabriel hissed out, the death spiral ending in a blur. Most of the surrounding units had been downed or were fleeing back to a defensive position, but the big OR unit was still standing. It had dropped Jack at least. That was a plus. Gabriel squared off against the titan, the two at a standstill. The shotguns reloaded with a click, the Commander swinging them down from his shoulders-_

__

_The OR suddenly gave an electronic bellow and lunged, firing off with its arm-mounted gatling gun. With a shove off from a nearby wall, Gabriel ducked the shorts and fired off two of his own, nailing the bot in the cover for its central processing system. The shielding was almost down! If they could get another shot, perhaps from a different angle?  
A familiar pulse rifle laid nearby. The Commander's eyes nearly rolled. God, could Jack stop losing his gear for one goddamn minute? "Morrison!" He hefted the weaponry, throwing it one-armed to the scuffed-up blonde in the corner. "I've got this. Move out!"_

__

_"Hell no!" Jack's voice echoed angrily to his side. Helix rockets rocked the OR's side, giving Gabriel the moment he needed. Rolling forward, the Commander got up underneath the omnic and blasted a hole in the underbody, shotguns raining holy hell through the unprotected sections of the OR-14's body casing. The energy sword close to swinging towards him suddenly deactivated, the OR giving a wail as it fell to the side, a hand catching his and yanking him out of range as the omnic toppled. Jack was on the other end of the pull, looking rather annoyed. "I had that handled, Reyes."_

__

_"Sure Morrison." Two minutes until the Omnium blew whether they were clear or not. Gabriel shoved at Jack, jerking his chin towards the direction Ana had headed. Time to leave. Now they just had to- what the hell was that?_

__

_A large metallic orb seemed to be floating down towards them. What WAS that? …Whatever it was, they weren't going to stick around to find out. Gabriel turned to head out- only to realize Jack hadn't done the same. What the hell was he- JACK NO._

__

_Jack leapt forward, pulse rifle in hand as he charged the sphere, Helix rockets knocking off part of the siding and exposing an odd molten core. More shots, more armor- more- why was it shaking?_

__

_That thing was a damn BOMB! Swearing, Gabriel sprinted forward. "Jack, get down!" HELL! If that thing went off, they'd all be mincemeat. They- it-  
-they'd run out of time._

__

_Acting on instinct, Gabriel got to Jack and rammed his side, sending his SEP mate flying behind a wall of debris. It was the last thing he saw before the world in front of him ripped to pieces, the heat blowing him backwards-_

__

_Muffled words echoed around him, ground jostling as the darkness rose up to swallow him whole. Pain filled in the gaps of memory-_

__

_-helicopter? Dropship. The darkness parted long enough for him to get bearings. They must have made it back to the ship. Had they landed or were they still in-air? Gabriel could feel the straps holding him to the bed, the medics clearly having done what they could for him until arrival at the medical facilities as he could feel bandages sealed to his skin. That detonator shrapnel seemed to have done a number on him, despite the body armor. The Overwatch Commander shuddered in place, noticing the grip on his hand only after a brief struggle with consciousness. Who…?  
Jack.  
"Ja-" his tongue felt too heavy. Gabriel choked. God, he wanted to hurl. "Ja-ck?"_

__

_"Oh my god, Gabe. Stay awake, okay? I'm sorry- shit. I should have listened-" Jack's face swirled above his, worry creasing new lines in the bloody face. "You're going to be fine."_

__

_"Liar." Gabriel wheezed, squeezing back on the hands holding his. He would have chuckled if he could have, breath hitching again instead. Damn idiot, always rushing in. But the team would look to his second-in-command now, at least until Gabriel himself had healed. IF he was capable of healing. From the look on Jack's face, that might be a big 'if'. Despite that, he forced the corner of his mouth up in a semblance of a smile.  
"S'gonna- be-" okay. It would be okay. He couldn't get the last word out though, eyes widening suddenly in alarm as his body jerked again, blood spattering out through his lips in waves. Fuck fuck-  
The rest of the Strike Team crowded behind Jack, looks varying from alarm to worry to- to-  
"Don't-" eyes rolled shut tightly, Gabriel jerking again. "Don't- leave-?" Goddamn selfish. The team needed Jack more than he did right now, surely. But if he was going to die-  
"Don't l-leave me-"_

__

_Don't-_

__

_Don't leave-_

__

_JACK!_

__

\--

__

The name fell from his lips in a ragged scream as he woke. Reaper shot up in bed, fingers clawing at his chest as his insides swirled, heart and lungs competing in a race towards nausea. He'd laid down for only a moment. What the HELL. Sleep never came easily. He'd assumed that a momentarily lie-down would be enough to give him further strength to face Overwatch as an 'ally' without attempting to rip the face off of anyone who got close enough to breathe on him. But instead, some dumb dream had to- to-

__

…That hadn't been a dream.

__

Reaper's hands were shaking as they clamped onto the sides of his face, hissing slow and low. It had been a damn memory…and he realized in horror that he recognized several parts of it from _before_ , from the episodes. The Bastions, the attack on the OR, the Strike Team standing just outside of audial reach, and even the damn dropship flicked at the edges of something he refused to acknowledge. If that was real, if everything he had seen thus far were parts of what had already happened- what did that mean? More importantly, what the fuck was his head trying to tell him by replaying parts of the past on a damn reel on a random schedule? Why _that_ memory? 

__

For just a moment, he entertained that line of thought and tried to recall the memory on his own. To Reaper's anger and frustration, he found a complete blank, the dream vivid enough to slide into his head as a secondary source but leaving him unable to locate the original pieces. What the hell?! 

__

…Why did it matter? So he didn't remember a damn battle from thirty years prior- so what? Surely, he remembered other shit. Like- like-

__

Reaper froze. When was the last time he had actively tried to remember anything around the time of the Omnic Crisis? Sure, it had occurred to him to try while they met with that Null Sector representative before the Paris attack but…no. He hadn't actually tried to recall since…since…

__

He knew he'd been Commander. He knew…they'd won. He knew who had been on the Strike Team and several of the key victories. But…it felt more like a laundry list someone had shoved in his brain, the rest of the memories broken and inaccessible as if they and the connections to them had been shoved through a blender. Sheets still wrapped around his lower half, Reaper swung his legs off the bed, planted his feet on the floor, and stared down at his hands in part horror, part shock. His memories…were gone. How far that extended, he had no idea. Surely into the early formation of Overwatch, perhaps even…

__

How the hell was he supposed to get into the mind of Reyes if he couldn't even remember SEP, couldn't remember the Crisis? How had he and Morrison even met? _Really_ met. In SEP, probably-  
What about Ana?  
What about-  
Shit!

__

Reaper stood on suddenly-shaky legs, pacing slowly. Perhaps these episodes were a gift in disguise somehow. If they could provide a window to his past, they'd let him get a better handle on how to react to the new Overwatch agents somehow-

__

Too many 'ifs'. Too many 'maybes'.

__

What the hell had he gotten into?

__


	3. Chapter 3

There wasn't much time to linger on the impending horror of the situation, as a sudden KA-THUNK cut Reaper's spiraling thoughts abruptly short. What the hell-

Just before he reached the door to yank it open, two sharp knocks echoed on the other side. It was enough to jerk him back to reality, hand pausing before the handle. Anyone could be on the other side, Reaper acknowledged begrudgingly, and he couldn't exactly treat them as typical Talon grunts. These people were going to want to _talk_ and- oh hell. Let it be anyone but Morrison out there. ANYONE.

Waiting any longer than he had already would surely be suspicious. Teeth grinding, Reaper slid on a poker face and opened the door, bracing himself for the worst possible scenario.

…Ana Amari stood beside a large footlocker, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently, clearly unimpressed by his punctuality and undressed state.

Oh.

Well shit.

On one hand, anyone was better than Morrison right now. Confronting 76 without intact memories would be a death knell to his entire mission. But Amari…this wasn't much better. She had been a part of the original Strike Team, which meant that he was missing several decades of intel on-

"You going to let me in or not?"

Reaper's thoughts again stuttered to a halt, red eyes blinking twice. Anger at being ordered around battled with confusion as to whether Gabriel Reyes would have allowed it, the mercenary's jaw clenching-

He shoved the door open further, allowing her to do as she pleased. Logically, there had to be a good reason she was here. Another 'ally' could always be useful, though something innately told him that this woman would make him fight for every inch of trust she had to offer.

"Shukran." Amari nodded to him as she hefted the footlocker and carried it _inside, wait what the hell?_ How was she carrying that thing?! Reaper gaped. Had she been enhanced somehow beyond her eye? Was that just innate strength or- goddammit, he could really use those memories right around now.

The footlocker was set on the floor once more with a more muffled thud, the sniper wiping her hands of dust and staring him down once more.  
"Well? Aren't you going to put on some clothes? This isn't a nudist colony, you know."

"I-?!" Reaper's jaw dropped open, words lost completely. They hadn't exactly provided him with any clothes; what the hell was he supposed to wear? Then, the meaning struck him. His armor! About time.

Dropping to a crouch in front of the footlocker and disregarding the faded 'G. Reyes' scrawled across the top, Reaper yanked it open. A soft pop sounded as if the whole thing had been vacuum-sealed (and who was to say it hadn't been?), and-

That was NOT his armor. What- wait. He'd seen this before. Somewhere. Scarred hands sank into worn fabric, brushing across chest armor that, despite its age, glimmered in the dull light from the hallway. This…he knew this. One thumb smoothed over an insignia that reminded him of his own mask-

Blackwatch. Gabriel felt his breath catch in his chest. His old uniform.

"It would do them good to see you out of your Talon persona, you know." Ana's voice filtered in as if she were underwater, Reaper too fixated on the Blackwatch symbol to see how suddenly soft her expression had turned.

It was a valid point. If he was going to blend back into this place, using an old disguise was probably the best way to go. Her intentions were probably different than his own, but it seemed Amari was still quite capable of saving his ass when he needed it most. Damn.

Setting the hoodie down, he re-analyzed the situation. Reaper rarely found himself self-conscious anymore but there was just something about her standing there with the room's door wide open beside her that made his gut roll. A grimace crossed his face as he rose, padding to the door and clicking it shut…and flipping on the lights. Fluorescents burned into his vision, eyes squinted as he made to return to the box-

A hand on his shoulder made him freeze in his tracks. No hesitation whatsoever on Amari's part, despite the now-clear view of his skin and physical condition. Reaper's entire being felt like it was shuddering, both at the sudden urge to pull away and the other, much stranger need to move closer. Neither were acknowledged, especially as Amari took hold of his other shoulder in kind, turning him firmly (her strength really was quite impressive) towards the bathroom.

"Shower first." There was a slight shove as she sent him towards the doorway. "I'll lay out an outfit for you and wait outside. It's been days since you've had solid food and a bath and frankly, Reyes, you stink."

She-  
WHAT-?!  
Who the fuck did she think she was? He-  
Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
"Let me guess. You're going to tell me to wash behind my ears too, right?" It came out in a deadpan, Gabriel's mostly earless head tilting towards Ana Amari's suddenly smiling face.

"I knew you were in there somewhere, smartass." She chuckled, pushing him the rest of the way into the bathroom with little effort. "I'll see you shortly."

The door clicked shut behind him. Reaper turned abruptly to the mirror and stared at his own reflection. What the actual HELL had that been? That wasn't something he'd normally say. It…was something _Reyes_ would do, if her reply meant anything. So what, now he had to rely on involuntary reactions to dig into who Reyes had been? The adrenaline-fueled showdown in the medbay had given him no insight whatsoever into one-on-one conversations. This was fucking wonderful.

Routine took over quickly, helping to quiet his mind despite the absolute shitshow he'd found himself in. Shave and trim. Pull off bandages. Water on. Shampoo- ugh. The soap was scented somehow, his ruined nose picking up something indeterminable but strong enough to make him look at the bottle. Sandalwood? _Great._ At least he wouldn't smell like a bouquet.

Padding out moments later with damp hair and new, haphazardly applied bandages from the medkit he'd found under the sink, Reaper eyed the ensemble awaiting him on the bed. How could something look so familiar and yet be so alien? The process of pulling it all on felt slow and clunky, the damn chest armor giving him a helluva time before he realized it was upside-down. The armored boots were a touch he'd apparently brought into his newer look, Reaper nodding in approval as the clasps automatically locked into place the moment he'd stepped in, and- a hat? He turned the simple fabric over in his hands, eyes narrowed as he examined it. A beanie. It seemed unnecessary but if Amari thought he needed it-

The clothing felt like it was meant for someone else. Loose in the waist, tight in the shoulders, too goddamn tight in the ass (just…why?), and just awkward as hell. This had better be worth it.

Moments later, he stepped out of the room, comm on his ear and gloves pulled into place. Amari was waiting, though the look on her face was not the one he'd expected. Nostalgic, pained, satisfied, sad-? Again, his mouth seemed to move without volition.  
"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're not wrong." Ana remarked quietly, sidling up beside him. An arm hooked into his, urging him to walk along with her. "Come. Let's get you something to eat."

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy food. It was more that the act of reaping provided him with a form of energy consumption made easier still by his current profession. He hadn't eaten food in quite some time, longer still that he'd had something beyond a protein bar on the occasional long-term mission. But it wasn't as if he could go around reaping people at a Watchpoint. Food would be required now, apparently. Joy.

Evidently, his body wanted it too. Even without being able to process the smells coming from the cafeteria, Reaper's mouth suddenly watered as he breathed in the air filtering out from the nearing kitchen, his stomach giving a traitorous roiling groan.

Ana only chuckled again, ushering him into a seat. "I'll get us both something to eat. Sit." 

It was odd, Reaper found himself noting as she walked away, how little fear she held of him and how little anger he felt towards her. There had been more of both emotions in Cairo, but…perhaps his fury with her had been a partial hold-over from seeing Morrison? Without Soldier 76 around Amari seemed almost…tame. He knew better, of course; he'd seen what the Shrike could do, knew that damn laundry list of basic facts surrounding her background with the Egyptian special forces and the original Overwatch strike team, but that was what truly made Amari's delivery of the footlocker and her focus on him that much more strange. Sure, they had shared history. But he remembered the face she'd made in Egypt not that long ago when she'd gotten a good, hard look at what laid beneath his mask. Now, it seemed irrelevant? What was her end game? 

Perhaps…she was analyzing him just as much as he was trying to analyze her. That would make more sense. Of anyone here, she had probably known him best (beyond goddamn Morrison). She would be best equipped to see if he was who he said he was. This all had to be some sort of test.

A bowl was set in front of him, Ana sitting across from him with a bowl of her own and a cup of…tea? Definitely tea. Reaper poked at the unappetizingly brown contents, denying the growls of his stomach to study the woman further. She hadn't changed much from Cairo. Same eyepatch, same baggy clothing though her straps of ammunition were missing. Her hood (hoods?) were down, braided white hair curling around one shoulder as she sipped her tea, tattooed wadjet crooked his way even as her own eye closed. Clearly, she was playing the long game like he was. He could respect that. 

Without realizing it, Reaper's arm lifted and a full spoonful of the bowl's contents found its way his mouth. It took a good few seconds later to realize what on earth was going on, as several things happened at once.

One: this was beef stew.

Two: it was goddamn delicious.

Three: he'd burned his fucking tongue.

Four: there were tears streaming down his face and he had _no fucking idea WHY_.

Gabriel yanked the spoon out and shoved it back into the bowl, scrubbing at his face with the arm of the hoodie, his chest too tight and tongue tingling as a wet sob shook him out of nowhere. Shudders ran all the way down to the floor, elbows bracing on the table as his face sank into his hands. He hadn't tasted something that good in years. He hadn't- he hadn't _tasted ANYTHING_ in years. He hadn't wanted to. He- this had to stop. He was having a goddamn breakdown over a bowl of stew, for fuck's sake. A hiccup shook him again, teeth gritting as he tried to refocus. What the hell was happening to him?

It was then that something warm wrapped around him, guiding him in. Reaper struggled to get ahold of his leaking face, hyperventilating quietly even as he let the warmth surround him. Something moved up and down his side, stroking gently, and it…helped. All of this felt like one of the episodes, except he was fully conscious of the outside world. Just…unable to interact with it? Was this some new level of the attacks? It certainly didn't seem as bad, despite the humiliation he certainly was going to receive from Amari once he pulled out of it- Amari?

"I have you covered." The voice was so close to him that he could feel the breath of the words tickle the remnants of his ear. Eyes opened slowly (when had he closed them?), greeted by the royal blue of a familiar fabric pressed up close. 

Ana Amari was hugging him.

Reaper fought to pull his breathing back under control. It took a minute more to ease the tightness lingering in his chest, to unclench his fists, to lean away from the hold she'd wrapped him in. Napkins were offered up, the mercenary using them liberally to clean up. What a goddamn mess. Through swollen eyes, he regarded the stew warily. Had she put something in there to cause such a reaction?

And yet, she was sitting back down and eating her own with a smile his way as if nothing had happened. Reluctantly, he took hold of the spoon again, stirring the bowl's contents awkwardly. Had to eat, damnit. Had to have energy. It was just his stupid face being stupid.

_Eat the goddamn stew, Reyes!_

The next bite was easier but no less delicious. One spoonful became two, four, ten. He couldn't quite meet her eye throughout, knowing that if he spotted pity it would be much too hard to stick to this non-violent Reyes persona. Showing vulnerability made everything inside want to curl into a corner and hiss at anyone who dared step too close. It…didn't make sense for her to comfort him (nor did he need it!), but-

Abruptly, she picked up his empty bowl. Wait, empty?

"I'm going back for seconds. Do you want some?"

Still not looking up, Reaper nodded jerkily. Footsteps padded away. Relief flooded his senses as she left without acknowledging what had happened. Maybe he'd get out of this debacle with his pride intact. 

It was then that he realized that the cafeteria wasn't quite as empty as it had been when they'd arrived.

On the way from the dormitory quarters, Reaper had reacquainted himself with what he could see of the Watchpoint: Gibraltar layout. The m- _Winston_ had cleaned up the area extensively, the debris missing from below the command center that he remembered from the unsuccessful raid months ago. Someone had gone so far as to cut down the weeds-

That said, no one else had been in the area. It had been almost suspiciously empty, as the cafeteria had been. But now, a very familiar figure stomped in, pulse rifle dragging behind him with visor in the other hand, leather jacket singed in new places that seemed to almost be still smoking. The pale face was smudged with dirt as were the man's kneecaps, indicating some rather intense training if he were to guess at the cause. It was only when Jack Morrison's eyes locked with his own and widened to the size of quarters that Gabriel realized he'd been caught staring. Really, he should look away. That would be the smart thing to do.

Clearly, he wasn't acting very smart right now.

"Gabe?" The pulse rifle dropped to the ground fully with a dull 'thunk', Morrison taking a few hesitant steps forward- then broke into a run.

Oh shit.

Reaper barely had time to shove himself clear of the chair, shadowstep not reacting as he tried to activate it-

Arms wrapped around his form and _squeezed_ , pain lancing down his spine and pulling a hiss from Reaper's lips. Morrison had him in a- wait, his own arms were free. What?

"Fuck, Gabe." Morrison's voice was muffled and wet from where the head leaned into his Blackwatch-armored shoulder. "It's like Zurich didn't even happen. _Fuck_." Fingers dug into the material of his hoodie, Reaper blinking as the soldier edged in closer, pressing fully to his front to the point where he could feel Morrison's pounding heartbeat through the leather and body armor. "You even smell the same-"

…76 was hugging him. This wasn't an attack. That meant- he should be reacting positively. Right? Hell. Reaper couldn't bring himself to pull his archenemy any closer, the proximity already making him queasy. Manipulation tactics suggested returning the hug to regain favor. Somehow that seemed incredibly wrong for once.

"What happened to giving Reyes space and letting him adjust in his own time?" Amari's voice floated from the side, the sound jerking 76 backwards and pulling a sigh of relief from Reaper. Why were Morrison's eyes- had he been crying too? Why?

"Ah shit." Again, the soldier's rough voice sounded wet. The way he scrubbed at his eyes was eerily familiar, enough to nearly set Reaper's nerves back on edge. "Right. Ah. I should-"

"Sit." A third bowl had magically appeared at the table along with two new portions of stew, Amari sipping innocently at her tea. Nodding and seemingly unable to look either of them in the eye, Morrison sat and dug into the bowl before him, head down.

Cautiously, Reaper returned to his seat, eyeing the others at the table. He should be furious right now, something in him acknowledged. 76 was _right there_ , as was Amari. Known criminals, enemies of Talon-

HE was an enemy of Talon currently. _That_ was a hard pill to swallow. An uneasy shudder worked up under his ribs, pangs of pain from Morrison's sudden hug pulsing in echoes of the odd hug. 

Both had now touched him. Both seemed unafraid to be in his space. Something under his skin still itched at being so close to Morrison, but it felt muted. Be it the memory or being in these old clothes or perhaps given the current circumstances, Reaper found himself able to shove the itch away and dig back into his refilled bowl of stew, ignoring 76's sudden stare of surprise and Ana's answering smile. This promised to be an uphill battle but he'd take every advantage he could get.

With any luck, Sombra would get those medical files shortly and the mysteries behind the damn episodes and memory loss would be cleared up. Then, the work could truly begin. 

…Somehow, every piece of that thought felt wrong.


	4. In Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings have been updated for this story. Note: this chapter contains blood, angst, and character death.
> 
> Enter: Zurich

_**Zurich, Switzerland** _

_**2070** _

_Not a single soul within the Overwatch Headquarters suspected trouble when the vibration echoed faintly through the feet of those strolling down the hallways. Earthquakes were a normal occurrence here, providing little more than a laugh and a future talking-point after work from the small rolling waves that shook water in bottles and jiggled cafeteria jello._

_Strike Commander Morrison was no different. The faint rumble did not even pull his eyes from the tablet currently in his hands, the Swiss earthquakes almost calming at this point. They would come and go, just as they always had. It-_

_The door to his office slammed open._

_The tablet hit the ground, cracking. The Strike Commander jolted up- and sighed a moment later._

_"Commander Reyes." Damn it- was the wall cracked behind the door handle again? Seriously? Maintenance was going to throw a fit. Jack had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. "What seems to be the problem?"_

_When it came to Reyes, it was always best to expect the unexpected. However, nothing could have prepared the Strike Commander for the silence that followed...and the double shotguns raised at his head in response. What? WHAT?!_

_The blast of the guns echoed inches from where he'd previously stood behind his desk, Morrison rolling out of the way just in time. He dove forward, knocking the guns from his old friend's hands, and tried to get a reading on the blank look in the familiar brown eyes as they grappled, rolling about on the carpeted floor. What the hell was going on?! Had that seriously just been an assassination attempt by the person he trusted most in the world-_

_The Blackwatch Commander disappeared suddenly, slipping through his blue-gloved fingers like smoke. Moments later, a gun barrel pressed to his head. Strike Commander Morrison, on his hands and knees, looked up to face down- was it even Reyes? Was this Amélie Lacroix all over again?_

_"Gabe, why?" Jack felt his voice crack, throat tight, fists clenching on the carpet. This had come out of nowhere. The Strike Commander overcoat lay trapped between himself and the floor, tangled about his legs in a mockery of how the job had come to feel like in the past few years...but nothing could have prepared him for this moment. "Gabriel-"_

_Suddenly, something passed over the brown eyes. A light seemed to come on, Gabriel blinking and lowering the gun. The Blackwatch Commander swallowed and took a step back, the weapon dropping from his hand to join its mate on the ground. "Jack?" His voice sounded as confused as Jack felt._

_It was then that the 'earthquake' rolled again. This time, it was clear this wasn't a natural phenomenon. It felt too rough, almost-_

_"What are you-?!" Black-gloved hands grabbed the back of his jacket, Jack struggling against the sudden move only to wince as his head hit metal. "Gabe, talk to me! Wh-"_

_"No time! Stay down. Stay there!" Gabriel shoved one more time, bodily forcing the Strike Commander under his desk and hitting the panic button they'd designed on the inside of the first drawer. Steel panels snapped shut over doors and windows, the desk mechanically shedding its glass top and smoothly encasing the Commander inside it's survival shell. Jack got a final look at Gabriel's form hunched next to the desk-_

_"GABE!"_

_-just before the entire room exploded._

_..._

_...Minutes (hours?) later, blue eyes fluttered open. Hot. It was too hot. Jack coughed roughly, groaning as his head lifted from- where the hell was he? Metal- the desk. The DESK! Reyes-_

_Shit. Jack shifted, hands and feet pressing outward. The desk held, but the 'ceiling' was bulging slightly inward if he was feeling it right. As if...something was on top. The 'door' on the opening of the desk was skewed, granting him a view of...nothing. Darkness. He stretched out a hand, wondering briefly if he was dreaming after too many nights spent sleepless in the office. His hand, however, met a very real wall of rubble and metal debris that, when touched, sent a shower of dust into his desk refuge. It sent Jack into a coughing fit that lasted a full minute, the Strike Commander all the while realizing how completely screwed he currently was. How deep down was he? Had the whole building come down? What the hell had happened?! Why had Gabe-_

_**GABE!** _

_Jack fumbled in the dark for his comm. Fortunately, despite the struggle and the explosion, it appeared to have survived. The eyepiece glowed faintly, casting a blue tint over the inside of the desk. It...somehow made the situation that much better and worse simultaneously._

_"Gabe?" He called out, hoping that the voice recognition would sync into the other's comm unit. "Gabriel, do you read me?" Static met him. Jack fought to stay calm, his free hand clenching and unclenching. "Can you hear me?"_

_Static. Static and-_

_"Jack."_

_"GABE." Something sounded wrong with Gabriel's voice, but the fact he was able to respond almost broke Jack's calm completely. The reality of being trapped in a metal box possibly hundreds of feet from the surface of debris was settling in hard. "Did you get clear? Tell me you got clear of the debris?"_

_There was a pause in the audio, Jack left with trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Had to keep calm. Had to conserve oxygen. Gabe had responded. Gabe was all right._

_"Not exactly- clear. Hold on."_

_What did he mean by that? Jack's teeth gritted. "Then get clear-! You've got to get out of here and warn the rest-" his voice broke again as smoke seeped into the desk in a thick fog. Shit. Shit shit. "Gabe?" Was this it? Was he going to just suffocate down here?_

_But to his absolute astonishment, the black fog solidified. Arms, legs, torso, and head poured out from the smoke, the new body framing Jack's within the confines of the desk. It was a tight fit, but-_

_"Oh my god. Gabe-" the eyepiece lit up just enough for Jack to see the damage. Blood streamed down the Blackwatch Commander's face, spattering the blue Strike Commander uniform below it. Gabriel's nose was completely gone, a massive swath of skin scraped clean off his face from left cheekbone to right ear, the latter left in chunks of skin melted down nearly to the skin. He could see the familiar SEP healing beginning to repair the skin of Gabriel's nose, reforming bone first, and reached up a hand to wipe away blood that was attempting to ease into the corner of one brown eye._

_"Good. The desk worked." The change in his voice appeared to be from the lack of his nose, the Blackwatch Commander seeming to examine the one below him for injuries before letting out a sigh of relief. "Damn idiots didn't reinforce your floor. It's a good thing this thing actually had an interior lining at the bottom."_

_The gravity of it all hit him like a wrecking ball. Gabriel could get out of here. Gabriel could SURVIVE. On the other hand, he...didn't have a way out. Jack could see the top of the desk bowing in bit by bit, pushing them closer together._

_He was going to die down here._

_Jack forced a breath in and out before allowing himself to speak again. He needed to stay calm so that Gabriel could stay calm. It wasn't clear yet why the shotguns had been fired or why the fight had occurred, but did it even really matter at this point? Very carefully, he reached up and tugged the beanie back into place where it had been knocked askew, Gabriel's voice falling silent in the dark of the desk._

_"Take down Talon for me if you can?" Jack gave a faint laugh, looking away. "What am I talking about? Of course you can. It's you."_

_"Jack what are you-"_

_"Gabe." Both hands reached up to take the collar of Gabriel's collar. "You need to get out of here while you can. You can smoke your way out of here. You might even be able to use that re-positioning trick you showed me a while back."_

_"I'm not leaving you here!" The angry response came, two other hands gripping at the sides of Jack's head, blood dripping onto his face. "You're coming with me, damnit. Don't-"_

_"I don't have your abilities. Gabriel, look at me." Jack's fingers moved up to cup the bottom of the injured face at the jawline, unwilling to hurt the clearly pained area farther up. "The fact we're even getting to talk right now is enough."_

_"What the hell do you mean, 'it's enough'?! You're not going to-" Gabriel fell silent, leaving them to stare at each other._

_The desk creaked ominously above them both, metal warping further. It occurred to Jack that if these were going to be the last moments of his life, he would be a fool to waste them. If anything else, maybe it would scare Gabriel enough to make him flee. Blue eyes narrowed, the grip on the face above his tightening in determination._

_Jack yanked Gabriel down, lips sealing over the other pair in desperation. As expected, his old friend froze but Jack didn't relent, one hand sliding back to press to the back of Gabriel's neck. 'Come on,' he thought desperately. 'Come on, run! Smoke out of here!' Something shifted, Jack's hopes rising._

_It took him a moment to realize that Gabriel was suddenly kissing him back just as fervently. Everything in Jack sank. No, no no. Why? Why now? How could everything be so right just as it all had to end? Gabriel pulled him in closer, their tongues tangling messily, gloves sinking into white hair. Blood joined the mix, iron a familiar tang in both mouths, tears turning it to a liquid salt. Jack sobbed into it, selfishly refusing to let go yet as Gabriel held him close. If he was going to die, he'd take every moment he could get-_

_CRACK._

_The desk gave an ominous crunch above them, the two parting as looks of panic crossed both faces. They were out of time._

_"Go." Jack's throat was so tight he could barely speak. When had one of his hands gotten under the beanie? Fingers stroked across the rough buzzcut, the texture strangely soothing. "It's okay, Gabe. It's okay."_

_Several emotions appeared to cross Gabriel's eyes. Further noise above them seemed to seal the determination set there though, the Blackwatch Commander gritting his teeth. This was it, Jack knew. It was okay. It had to be okay. It- Gabe would be safe and- no. What? Why was he-?_

_"Remember everything you are." Gabriel's voice echoed in his ear, face shoving down to push around Jack's shoulder, arms wrapping around his form. "Find out the truth. Don't trust anyone." His voice quieted momentarily. "Not even me."_

_In a moment, everything shifted. The metal above them gave way, Jack's eyepiece exploding a crunch of glass as pain swiped across his face. Around him, everything turned into a mass of pressure and nothingness. Jack felt himself torn apart, colors flashing behind (before?) his eyes before it faded to black._

_..."HUAGH-!" Jack hurled, his entire form shaking as it struggled to interpret its current situation. It felt as if he'd been put together like a huge jigsaw puzzle, pain ricocheting before his body could remember how to breathe again. His hands met crumbling bits of stone, eyes blinded by an intense white light-_

_Outside. He was outside. On top of the rubble? Jack threw up twice more, slumping to the ground. How was that possible? The sun was so bright it hurt to open his eyes. What was that noise behind him? Some sort of croaking?_

_Jack's eyes flashed wide open despite the pain it caused and forced himself around._

_No._

_No no. NO. No no no-_

_Gabriel was several feet away, arms flapping uselessly against the rubble as he writhed, choking on his own blood. Pieces of his uniform were missing, torso misshapen as if hit too hard from multiple directions. His mouth gaped in an attempt to pull in oxygen, soft wheezes echoing from his attempts. The dark lower half lay motionless twitching but otherwise motionless, Jack realizing in horror what that could mean-_

_Panic. Pure panic. In a moment, he'd shed what was left of his overcoat and tucked it around what was left of Gabriel's form. He could hear himself promising to return with medical help, commanding Gabriel to stay awake as long as he can, but it's all from a distance. Jack's name was a question hung from Gabe's broken lips. Then, he was running. He was running and running and running-_

_Instead, Jack found bodies. Bodies and bodies and bodies. So many dead. More pleas come from the wreckage, sending his mental state further into a spiral of panic and numb denial. Minutes pass, Jack forcing himself to turn back as soon as he could make himself realize that no one was close to being nearby. Without the doctors, there wasn't a chance of saving Gabriel. At least he could stay by his side. At least he could- he-_

_It's also at this moment that realized the extent of Gabriel's sacrifice. Despite the collapse, despite it all...Jack was unscathed. Gabriel had...he'd sacrificed himself to get Jack to the surface in one piece and he'd **left Gabriel to die alone.** _

_With everything he had, Jack sprinted back. Please, he sent a prayer up to whoever or whatever was possibly listening, please let Gabe be there. Please. PLEASE._

_Gabriel's still form was where he'd left it, half-covered by the the Strike Commander overcoat, eyes and mouth half-open, arm stretched out as if it had been reaching for something...or someone. Jack was screaming, screaming, screaming as he dropped to his knees and fell to pieces._

_It took...hours to force himself up. Time had lost all meaning. He had to move on autopilot, closing the brown eyes as if they hadn't just been looking at him moments previous. It looked like Gabriel was sleeping like that somehow, which made it so much worse-_

_Broken for a few more untested moments of time, Jack laid among the rubble and clutched the cold hand in his. Had to keep going. Had to keep going for Gabe._

_The Strike Commander overcoat was pulled up over the length of the still form, blood staining the fabric purple. Dogtags clenched in one hand, Jack forced himself up to his feet. A Talon dropship had cruised overhead shortly before, scrabbling feet on rubble telling him he had little time to evacuate the area. He waned to bring the form next to his, but he was unable to do more when it becomes evident that moving his- his body would only break it further. Jack broke again. This time, he was moving without his own consent. Run. Run run run-_

_It's only later that he realized that the only injuries he'd sustained from the explosion were from when the desk collapsed. Twin scars swipe across his face from the broken glass of the comm earpiece and the rubble in a mockery of the bloody marks that had graced Gabriel's face. Gabe's blood and his own stain his face enough to let him past the blockade of people, uniform torn and stained beyond recognition. In the closest secure Blackwatch safehouse, Jack collapses when he realizes that he has to clean off the remnants of his dearest friend to tend to his own injuries-_

**2077**

**Gibraltar, Spain**

Jerking as he's torn out of the memory by the sudden squawk of a seagull, Jack blinked with watery eyes out over the cliffside, arms clenched tightly behind himself at parade rest, and forced himself to breathe. The double set of dogtags pressed into his chest, a further reminder of what had been lost. Finding out Gabriel had been alive again had been tortuous enough. Watching his life attempt to slip away _(again)_ just days prior had been an immense wake-up call through the fog of grief that had clouded him these past seven years. He refused to lose Gabe again if it was in his power to save him. He would never again let Zurich occur. But that...brought him to the next problem.

Something was wrong.

Jack Morrison did not consider himself a genius by any means. However, he’d learned many a time to trust his gut instinct first. It usually led him in the right direction. Overwatch had benefited from that particular brand of leadership for at least a FEW of its many years, despite its ultimate demise, and he’d survived by it ever since.

Now though, as he stood at the edge of one of Gibraltar’s many cliffs, the sea crashing below, Jack found his gut and head at war. Gnawing his bottom lip bloody and staring out over the waves wouldn’t do much to solve it. He knew that. But what else was he supposed to do?

Something was wrong with Gabriel.

He’d known, of course, that things wouldn’t go back to how they’d been before in a snap. That was too optimistic for even pre-SEP Jack Morrison, more or less battle-hardened Soldier 76. But no, something was truly, DEEPLY wrong and he had no way to put it into comprehensible words. It was in the way Gabriel moved, the way his lips wrapped around his words, his body language- it was all wrong. It was as if...someone else had been shoved into his old friend’s body and given the controls with perfunctory instructions on how it should be operated before being let loose on the world.

And yet- and yet, Gabe was in there. He’d _seen_ him. _Ana_ had seen him. Little comments, the way his head would tilt up at a question he hadn’t quite fully heard-? He even still had that old habit of eating right-handed despite Jack knowing full well that Gabriel was left-handed-

If he brought it up to Winston, it would be taken out of context and blown out of proportion. Ziegler was a BIG no. Ana hadn’t seen what he had...or at least wouldn’t admit to it off-hand. She was being strangely tight-lipped about the whole situation, especially given how much she’d seemed to want distance at first. Truly, the only person he should need to count on was himself, right? Jack had more history than anyone with Gabriel- shouldn’t he therefore be able to tell when something was wrong? And yet, in the Strike Commander's office seven years ago, he hadn't seen the signs before the explosion or the...assassination attempt. He'd come to terms with it years ago, but thinking about the blank look in Gabriel's eyes before- what did it all mean?

It wasn’t as if he could just bring this all up to Gabriel in person either. Not yet. Jack had always had trouble communicating with his old friend, especially in the later years, and he wasn’t about to lose Gabe again over a misplaced word. Even a few weeks ago, the thought of the two of them _here_ and on the same team had been a pipe dream.

On top of it all, the nightmares- the memories- had reached a fever pitch. He’d thought with Gabriel nearby, on their side, and _breathing_ would help. It _should_ have helped. But it seemed as if Gabriel’s proximity had only helped the intensity and frequency of the dreams increase. The man in his dreams only highlighted the differences further between the one he saw on base now and the one who had- had- died amid Zurich’s smoke. His throat clenched as it all threatened to replay behind every blink.

Leather creaked as fists clenched, Jack’s teeth grinding, eyes determinedly zeroed in on the sunset even as the light began to make his vision burn. Was he reading too much into this? Or had he not been reading enough into it at the start? He couldn’t write it off as nothing. Not yet. Not while Gabriel was still a shadow of his former self. After all, the Reaper wouldn’t have saved him from Doomfist. A stranger wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the odd comradery between them, even while one of them was naked in a medical bay. Ana was right. Gabe just needed time. Right?

...If that was true, then why hadn’t Gabriel said a word to him in the cafeteria? Yeah, he’d jumped the guy...but that had been normal. Decades ago. Before he'd left his best friend to die alone after the ultimate sacrifice. God fucking damnit. How could he even begin to judge Gabriel's behavior after that? Arms raised, one wrapping around his chest and the other raising for his face to rest in his palm, sea breeze ruffling what was left of his hair. Gabriel had looked like he'd stepped straight out of Jack's nightmares, a ghost brought to life in a sudden miracle so vivid he'd thought himself hallucinating at first. It hadn’t been until Jack had pulled himself away that he’d even registered how the familiar hazel eyes were now red, silver eyebrows and hair poking down from the hoodie, those jagged scars that raked across Gabe’s face, his ears, his nose- just as it had been from Zurich, those old scars new with blood streaming down between them as ruined lips clashed heatedly among the debris-

God, don't get him started on that. Hell, he hadn't known what they were back then. How was he supposed to deal with all of this now on top of everything?  
They’d both changed. Given current circumstances, Jack couldn’t bring himself to be too suspicious of Gabriel’s distance from them all. Even the way they’d separated after the meal with barely a word, all three headed in their own directions, was utterly and banally normal. He just...couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what was so off. Gah-

A sudden flurry of sound not far behind him made the soldier turn, eyes blinking between fingers, not quite registering what he was seeing. Figures began heading up the dusty Gibraltar path towards the cafeteria, appearing to have just arrived back from a battle of some sort, their forms riddled with dirty smudges and postures both bent and upright in a familiar mixture of battle fatigue and adrenaline. A large, white-haired man in armor, helmet under one arm, was clapping the shoulder of a younger woman with bright red hair- wait. No, he knew that face. Jack froze, hand dropping from his face.  
“Reinhardt?”

At first, it dawned on Jack that he should have just kept his mouth shut. Surely, he was the last person Wilhelm had any interest in seeing. After all, HE had signed those retirement papers a decade ago. Maybe he hadn't been heard. That would probably be for the best, really.

Reinhardt Wilhelm froze in his tracks, head swiveling. It seemed to take him a moment to realize who was speaking, but when he did…oh, Jack could tell. That train wreck that appeared on the German's face spoke volumes. The woman beside him was confused and seemingly wary, asking unheard questions that turned to alarmed exclamations as the Crusader's fire lit bright blue, armored form charging forward with arms outstretched, face riddled with grief and determination. 

Well shit.


	5. Chapter 5

It was only fair, Jack silently decided. Just as Gabriel had deserved a shot (honestly, he'd gotten off light with a single punch), the others surely had a right to take their pound of flesh where it was due. The pounding of footsteps and the incoming charge roared in his ears, Jack's chin lifting as one foot slid out across Gibraltar's dirt in an attempt to brace for the hit-

-that never came.

"OooOff-" the breath was crushed out along with what felt like pieces of his ribs. Stars danced behind his eyes, his lower back giving a nasty twinge just as Jack's left ear near-exploded.

“JACK MORRISON!” With a mighty scoop, the crusader hoisted the man up and away from the edge of the cliff, hugging him within an inch of his life. “How can this be? You’re ALIVE!” Tears streamed down Reinhardt's face that he grinned through, a laugh blasting from him in shocked joy and delight. "What a sight for sore eyes you are!"

"Old soldiers are hard to kill." Jack damn-near squeaked, breath wheezing through the tight hold. Relief cascaded through him in a waterfall even as his spine creaked. "Good to see you too, metalhead."

"Jack MORRISON!" Reinhardt set him down, looking practically aghast. A twinkle in his remaining eye gave away his utter delight. "You know my heart belongs to Hasselhoff!"

A very unprofessional squawk of a laugh left Jack. "Oh my god."

"Ha HA!" One massive armored arm settled around the former Strike Commander's shoulders, a delighted rumble vibrating through them both. "Come, my friend. You must tell me all about what you have been up to. And look at you-!" Reinhardt mock-sniffled. "You've finally gained your very own facial scars! I'm so proud."

He wouldn't have been so proud if he'd known where they'd come from. A muscle twitched in Jack's cheek, the soldier unable to meet Reinhardt's eye. Quick, deflect- "This coming from the guy who's bringing man-buns back into style?"

"OH! Do you like it?!" The white hair tossed slightly, pulling a chuckle from Jack, the arm squeezing fondly around his shoulders. "Brigitte-" Reinhardt blinked. "She always tells me it's- where did she go?"

Brigitte? "You don't happen to be referring to one 'Brigitte Lindholm'?" Torbjörn's daughter- that COULD NOT have been her just before could it? Jack mentally reeled.

"The very same! She has become my noble squire and a fierce warrior in her own right!" The free metal hand raised into the air as a giant fist. "Truly, she honors me!"

 _'Brigitte is headed to her living quarters to take a call. Winston has asked me to direct all personnel to the Command Center at this time for an all-staff update.'_ Athena's voice echoed from unseen speakers along the perimeter of the buildings, the two former-Strike-Team mates barely pausing as they automatically changed course. _'Also, welcome back Lieutenant. I hope the mission was productive?'_

"Not nearly as productive as these past few moments have been-!" Reinhardt's smile stretched from ear to ear. "What better way to celebrate a successful mission than with an old friend?"

…It suddenly occurred to Jack that if Reinhardt had not been informed of his arrival, then the crusader also did not know about Gabriel or- oh no. Lines creased across his face as he internally debated revealing it all…but no. That wasn't his place. He wouldn't have wanted Ana or Gabe giving him away. They deserved their own moment.

"So." A rare smile attempted to pull at Jack's mouth, his own arm rising to wrap around what parts of the armored back he could reach. "Mark 9, huh? When did that happen?"

"You noticed!" Pure delight beamed from the crusader. "A glorious tale. I don't suppose you've yet heard of our mission in Paris?"

"Not at all." It felt almost like old times, the words feeling near-teasing. Jack chanced a look up as they rounded the corner. "I suppose you'd better give me an immediate sitrep. If you'd do me the honor?" 

Reinhardt froze in his tracks, turned, and took Jack by the shoulders as he leaned in, the look of a giddy five year-old on his features as if he were asking permission. Jack, for his credit, held perfectly still and did not laugh (though he sorely wanted to, he didn't want to discourage the German in the slightest), merely nodding his consent.

The crusader just about exploded. "Jack, it was INCREDIBLE! A Titan had come into the city and only we of Overwatch could hold back the tide! NO, but I must start from the beginning. A true tale of honor and glory! We were UNSTOPPABLE!"

\---

The realignment hurt like a _bitch_.

Reaper kept perfectly still on the table, head hanging off the edge as his eyes followed the heavy footfall padding about the perimeter. The monkey- _Winston_ had called him in and hastily explained the situation, only waiting for approval before going straight to work. Letting anyone work on his implants was a measure of trust he did not readily extend, but if this was the true reason his nanites weren't yet back up to full strength-

Another spark snapped at his nerves, Reaper's eye twitching. "Time frame."

"Two minutes." Winston flipped the metallic covering shut on one implant, nudging it to encourage the lock to engage before moving to the next vertebrae. Tweezers in one hand, he snagged the soldering iron with a foot and held it at the ready. The damaged wiring had all been replaced, just…not connected. It was tedious work but not entirely complicated. Angela had explained the basics years ago; a refresher was all he'd needed for the initial repairs. Though admittedly, the actual function of several of the implants was fuzzy at best. Winston did not pretend to understand the exact capabilities, but he could theorize. He'd been right so far, hadn't he? "You know," he muttered, carefully easing one of the wires into the circuitry board inside. "I don't remember you having all of these back in Zurich."

Nosy. He side-eyed the ape, but it didn't quite have the same effect when he wasn't allowed to move his head. …What the hell. He was trying to get them to trust him, right? It wasn't exactly a secret among Talon, after all. 

"They found me in the rubble." Reaper didn't actually remember that part, but again…it was fairly common knowledge. "Stuck me in a P.O.D. for a month while teaching my spine how to look like a spine again. From what I'm told, it looked like a few tons of steel girders tried to turn me into a porcupine." Hm. There was that Reyes sarcasm again. What was it with that and it coming out at the strangest of times?

The soldering iron froze. This- these were to assist in stabilizing a serious spinal injury? Guilt wove its way through Winston once more, the scientist easily remembering how Reyes had appeared just a few days prior and how they'd almost left him to a similarly grisly death. "I'm…sorry. That must have been very traumatic."

A snort left the prone form. Right.

Winston huffed awkwardly, finishing the last solder and easing down to the last of the implants. "Did you say you were in a P.O.D. for a month? I thought those devices had been banned years ago due to the-" electric current fizzled through the wires, eager to be fused. "-inhumane treatment of patients?" The words finally sank in. Winston nearly dropped the tweezers. "You were in a P.O.D. for a _**month**_?!"

Teeth gritted, Reaper abstained from responding. Best to keep an insult about 'inhumane' to himself when a gorilla was one bad move from taking away his ability to walk. Also, yeah. It had been a month. Who cared? He certainly didn't remember the process, nor did he wish to. What mattered was that he was out and-

_-beeping, constant beeping-_

…No. NO no no. Reaper forced himself to breath through it. Not a good time. Fuck! 

_-distant, muffled screaming-_

The episode hovered on the backs of his eyelids-

Winston reconnected the last wire. A frozen moment passed…and the Reaper promptly exploded.

The scientist yelped, stumbling backwards and dropping his tools, mouth open as he debated calling for Athena. What was he going to tell the Strike Commander?! Black almost-dust hovered in the air of the command center as if Winston had just dusted off the main console. When he'd hit the Reaper with the Tesla cannon those months ago, this had happened…but every piece had seemed to dissipate within seconds. Not like this. He reached out tentatively, a finger sweeping through the small particles. "…Reyes?"

_Every molecule of his body was on FIRE. Gabriel writhed within the restraints of the cylinder, screaming around the tube stuffed down his throat. He couldn't fucking feel his legs and yet Moira stood there, red hair near-swirling beyond the reaches of the glass and metal and whatever the hell liquid this thing was filled with, his former underling from Blackwatch calmly taking notes on a tablet. It was like she couldn't even see him. He tried shouting her name through the wracking pain, the sound near-muted by the tube…but it appeared to work. The red hair grew closer, mismatched eyes looking up at him in…interest. Fascination?_

_God, it wasn't that she didn't know he was there. She just didn't **care**._

_Her lips were moving, his eyes flicking down to try to decipher the words.  
"-memory--not fully--may require--" What? Wait- there! He could see her- _

_"Put him under until we have a blank slate to work with."_

Molecules snapped back together with an almost audible crack, Reaper stumbling as boots met the floor. One hand slammed down on the table to keep him upright, his breath heaving. Goddamn inconvenient. How the hell was he supposed to interpret _that?_

"You're okay! Oh geez-" Winston almost leapt forward, holding himself back at the last moment. "I didn't know that you'd- has it stabilized?"

…Right. Breathe. He could analyze the new memory (?) later. Reaper inhaled again…and exhaled, arms crossing his chest. The nanites hooked in- oh. _Yeah. "From the shadows."_ The nanites blinked forward, his form settling across the room in a flash. Excellent. He waited only until he'd fully formed on the floor to move again, body near-vibrating as it grew fuzzy at the edges, Reaper's eyes razor-sharp as he shifted forward. _Excellent_. "As much as to be expected." His voice echoed in the bodily distortion, metal soles clicking as he settled once more, shoulders stretching back and neck cracking to the side. _Much_ better. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it almost seemed that the nanite healing had also sped up by the way his ribs were clicking together.

"Good. That's…really, really good." For a moment there, Winston had thought they might have lost Reyes completely. The sheer panic surrounding the moment faded, leaving two unsteady allies in a room they'd fought in not so long ago. Both seemed to realize it, two sets of eyes flicking to a broken window nearby. 

Hm. It appeared they were on the same wavelength for once. Reaper huffed again, breaking the connection first as he stalked away, reaching for the hoodie, body armor, and the rest of the upper body garments he'd discarded earlier. "Still haven't replaced it?"

Oh. A foot reached for the waylaid iron, Winston's attention instead drawn to where he'd pulled the Lamprey out of the wall. "Talon hasn't exactly offered up a reimbursement check."

Ha! A smirk pulled at Reaper's face. "Imagine that."

"Maybe I should bill you instead." Padding over, the scientist barely managed to not wince as he watched the damaged and partially necrotic skin ripple over muscle as Reyes pulled on a shirt. "Are you-"

"Then bill me." Trust built on money wasn't solid, but it was a start. Reaper harrumphed. "What?" He turned, only to find the room had a new occupant. "…Tracer." The greeting was stiff, but better than the 'lackey' that had tugged at him earlier.

"HEY!" Lena grinned, balancing on one leg as her other stretched back behind her, arm reaching back to grab and hold the wayward foot. "Everything get fixed back up?"

Had everyone known of the intentional mis-wiring beyond himself? …Hm. They'd all gotten much better at keeping secrets. "Mmhm."

"All right!" She bounced on the floored foot twice, zipping back around to stand by Winston and pat the scientist's shoulder. "I knew ol' Winston could getcha back to your friendly smoky self!" Lena giggle-snorted. 

Friendly smoky self. Right. Well, if that's what she wanted to call it when he was shooting at her…. What the hell. The kid was literally palling around with a giant moon monkey and saving the world as part of a defunct illegal organization that had originally staved off a killer robot apocalypse. Reaper wryly admitted that he _supposed_ he could let a few weird comments slide. It wasn't like any of them could claim to be fully mentally stable, considering the fucked-up situation. "…Right."

"Gabriel."

Ana. Reaper gave her a sharp nod of acknowledgement. Damn, with everyone coming out of the non-existent woodwork, it felt like Sombra was about to step out of the shadows at any moment. …Was that seriously another cup of tea in the sniper's hands? Gabriel blinked.

"Captain Amari! You settlin' in okay?" Lena was bouncing back and Reaper had to forcibly keep his eyes from rolling. What did that kid eat for breakfast? Smarties with Red Bull? …What a weird thought. Was that Reyes in his head again?

"-a wondrous victory for all! You should have been there, Jack. You would have loved all the youthful spirit and comradery!"

Wait. Who the hell was that? Reaper paused with the hoodie in his hands, leaning back in confusion to get a better look. Surely that couldn't be-

"I'm sure it was quite the sight. Speaking of sights for sore eyes-" a more familiar voice. That had to be Morrison. "I think you might find a few more in here."

"I have no idea what you're-" Reinhardt Wilhelm's armored form ducked inside the entrance to the Command Center and promptly screeched to an audible stop on the concrete floor. All six sets of lungs seemed stuck within their respective bodies, the German's the first to let loose the air in gasp. His eyes were set on one person and one person only, the crash of a teacup on the floor signaling a mutual return of attention.

"Ana?"

The sniper quivered in place, seemingly appearing to stay strong even as her hands visibly shook.

"Ana, how can this be?" Reinhardt staggered forward, knees clanking to the ground in front of her, breath catching at every other inhale. "I thought you were dead-"

"I'm sorry, Reinhardt. After everything that happened, I needed time." The stoic words lingered in the air between them like a shield…which Ana promptly broke as she reached for the crusader, arms looping around his neck and pulling him into a fierce hug.

Armored arms cradled her form as if she were made of china, the German's face lowering to bury in her shoulder. "Forgive and forget, like snow from yesteryear." A muffled sniffle broke the air, one of Ana's hand coming up to pat the back of his neck. "How I've missed you, my dear Captain."

"And I you, Lieutenant."

Footsteps tapped to his side, Reaper finding that he didn't need to look to know to whom they belonged. He jerked a nod towards Morrison, a motion at the corner of his eye acknowledging its return. Neither said a word, but it…wasn't needed. An uneasy and downright _familiar_ feeling began to overtake Reaper, one he wasn't the slightest bit interested in at the moment. Goddamn it-

"So it appears you've seen Jack." Ana was chuckling by the time they pulled back, both faces suspiciously wet.

"Yes! I told him of our glorious battle in Paris. Jack-" Reinhardt paused only long enough to gently tuck a bit of Ana's hair just behind her ear, thumb brushing the elastic of the eyepatch before he stood up once more. "-where did he get off to now?"

"Here." The voice called from beside Reaper's side, the unwanted feeling blossoming into an itch beneath his skin. He didn't want to feel _comfortable_ with Morrison next to him, damnit! Fortunately, he didn't have time to contemplate it long.

"Reyes." The name sounded different coming from Reinhardt's mouth somehow. More a curse, perhaps, than a thankful relief. Good, Reaper thought viciously. Hatred was something he could easily deal with. All of this gooey shit was ticking him off.

…That thought was squashed completely as armored arms reached out and snagged him out of the air. Gabriel squawked indignantly, arms pinned to his sides.

"GABRIEL REYES. I cannot believe-!" Laughter rang so loudly in his ears that his nanites rushed to his head in an attempt to waive the tingling of tinnitus from the decibel level. The high pitched whine of sound seemed to bring something else out that he didn't expect, though. 

Nanites shifted, leaving smoke in Reinhardt's arms as Gabriel settled back by Jack's side, arms crossing his chest and looking positively ruffled and mischievous. "You're as huggy as ever, Wilhelm."

"BAH! Ever the escape artist, my friend!" The tears threatened to spill again, the German clearly overwhelmed. "All of my friends! I- oh, to see you two stand beside each other again is-" he looked between Reyes and Morrison, sniffling. "My heart is full. What a day to celebrate!"

…Odd that Reinhardt would pick up on it as well. It was almost easy to stand next to Morrison despite their history. Reaper hung onto the remnants of Reyes that had slid into his head- they'd served him well in the past few seconds. "Couldn’t miss the class of '46 reunion party." Had it really been forty-one years since they'd met? The laundry list in his head gave a muted agreement with his mental calculations.

"A PARTY! What a fantastic idea!" Reinhardt's arm wound around his middle as if to hold himself together, weakly laughing. Ana appeared at his side, patting his armored side. Tracer darted to the other side, smiling brightly up. Another half-sob later, the crusader seemed to mostly have himself together. "This is all so much. It's more than I could have ever dreamed for. I surely hope I have not just fallen asleep on the dropship again."

"Not a dream, luv!" Lena knocked on the armor, head cocked to the side. "Hey, aren't we missing a few people for the party?"

"We dropped off Dr. Zhou with Lucio in Brazil on the way back. There was some clean-up duty to tend to if I remember correctly." Reinhardt wrapped his arms around both women, smiling fondly down at both before looking back up at the two men across from him. "Wait until my squire comes back. She will not believe her eyes!"

A soft thudding sounded from outside, six heads lifting in tandem. Moments later, Brigitte Lindholm burst into the Center, eyes wild and comm held high in one hand.

"Omnics are in Gothenburg! Papa tried to hold them back, but they've cornered him in the old Ironclad Industry building and-" she visibly swallowed, finding Winston amid the rest and staring at him pleadingly. "He's trapped."

"Then we'll get him out." Winston stepped forward, nodding as he looked around the room. The original plan was to ease everyone back together, thus his original call for a meeting, however...this could work. Of course, none of this was ideal. Brigitte and Reinhardt had only just gotten back and not one of the three newcomers had been medically cleared for battle…but something told him that there wasn't a chance they were going to allow themselves to be left behind. Plus, it wasn't like they'd ever intentionally leave Torbjörn to the omnics. No, they could do this. They were Overwatch! "Are you all with me?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Absolutely unacceptable." Angela Ziegler rounded on Winston, blue fire glaring him down. "You expect to run a mission with two Overwatch agents freshly back from a mission, two vigilantes that I haven't given a full medical screening to, and a terrorist. The only logical choice here is Lena!"

"Thank you!" Tracer chimed in as she raced to the dropship cabin, already ready to start settling herself in. A pause later, the full weight of the statement sunk in. "…Oh. Hey, don' be too down, doc! We've got this." With another orange zip, she popped out of sight.

Right. Yes! A dark finger shoved up the precariously perched spectacles, Winston clearing his throat and forcing himself to stand his ground. "I see it as sending a Lindholm expert and most of the original Strike Team."

"A Strike Team that hasn't worked together for three decades-?" Teeth gritted, the battle medic forced herself to breathe. Per the debrief packet she'd glanced at while gathering supplies about the medbay, Torbjörn didn't have much time. But perhaps- "Do we have any other agents nearby that might assist?"

A heavy sigh erupted from the gorilla, knuckles pressing into the metal floor of the dropship ramp where they had paused. "Genji and Echo are still attempting to track down Zenyatta. Mei is apparently with Lucio…and seeing as they didn't leave us with a time frame, I'm guessing they could be a while." Winston reached up, gently patting Angela's shoulder with a hand that dwarfed her frame. "I really am sorry. I wasn't expecting to ask you to go out in the field again any time soon, but-"

"But it's Torbjörn." She finished, eyelids squeezing together as her head drooped. The engineer had been there for her through so much. The thought of losing him like this was…unbearable. But the team make-up- it couldn't possibly work. "I don't suppose there's any way to change your mind about Reaper."

"Agent Reyes." Winston corrected, though winced at the stare his way. "I know you have concerns-"

"He tried to murder me!"

Both sets of eyes glanced out over the pathway leading to the dropship, the man in question nowhere yet in sight. Winston sat back on his haunches, fingers absent-mindedly playing with a few pieces of gravel below him. "He's tried to murder most of us. But that's it, isn't it?" He picked up one of the little rocks, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. "The Reaper isn't supposed to leave anyone alive at the scene of the crime. That's the legend, isn't it? And yet…here we all are. Alive."

"So far." Angela deadpanned.

"So far." Winston agreed, managing a chuckle. "Yes, it's unorthodox but…yes, I've made my mind up."

"He hasn't even trained with the team! He-"

"Did you know that Overwatch led a raid on the Gothenburg factory during the height of the Omnic Crisis?"

Angela's jaw swayed a moment before she managed to reign it back in. "You are saying-"

"Reyes knows that place. If I trusted him more, I'd even let him lead the mission." Winston admitted, more than a little uneasily. "But I don't. Trust him, that is."

"Good. At least that makes two of us." The doctor huffed, one hand pressing into her arm, methodically easing the wrinkles out of the fabric. A few creases in, she abruptly nodded. "Fine."

"I'll be keeping an eye on him. I promise."

\--

The ruined black leather dripped from his splayed hands like pools of thick oil, Reaper grimacing down at the remains of his overcoat in dismay. "You've got to be kidding me."

"There wasn't much left." Ana calmly noted, strapping on her biotic grenades with ease. "Why do you think I brought you new clothing?"

Even the pants held a long slit up each side from waist to kneecap, the material soon wadded up and thrown back into the box it had come in. That left…this old shit from the crate. Reaper snarled, pulling at the armor he'd barely managed to strap on earlier. Fuck! Worse, the mask didn't fit inside the hood. The damn straps didn't-

"Hey." Jack stepped up, holding out a gloved hand. "These should be mostly intact at least. Knew you'd want them."

There was an audible pause in the locker room, as if everyone were holding their breath. Slowly, Reaper turned to him and glanced down at the outstretched palm. What-

OH.

His gauntlets! Reaper pulled off his own gloves and tossed them into the box with his ruined Talon-wear. "Hell yes." Normally, accepting anything from Morrison would be suspect, but as it was he wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth. The metal and leather slid on like a second skin, fingers stretching and metallic claws clicking. _Yes._

"You pulled shotguns on me in the safehouse." Jack chuckled wryly and stepped away, grabbing his visor only long enough to hook it to his belt. "Even unconscious, you were trying to kick my ass. I tucked 'em away when I figured that was where you magically pulled the guns from."

The gauntlets powered up as his nanites recognized the material. They really were a wonder, a design tailored to his unique biology. Supposedly, the energy generated from his body was enough to run both machines. Something to do with his DNA…whatever. So long as he didn't break them (or lose them), he'd be in the clear.

…They were waiting for him to say something, weren't they. Mentally, Reaper cursed. When would they just leave him alone?! 

"…Thanks." That was good enough, right? …No? Fuck. Come on, Reyes. Where was that little voice in his head when he needed him?! …No?

Looked like he'd need to improvise. Reaper swallowed, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, reaching down. The gauntlets powered up, metal shifting under his fingertips, and moments later he pulled out both shotguns, fully loaded and aimed at Soldier 76. Then, just as quickly, he lowered the muzzles and inspected both with a sharp eye. "Seems they're in working order."

"Yeah." Goddamn. Jack had barely managed to keep from flinching when those guns had pointed his way. Shit- "I tested 'em out when we got here to make sure they still worked. Wicked pieces of work."

"Mm." Reaper slid a claw down the side of the right shotgun, a soft 'skritch' of metal on metal both calming and-

Wait WHAT. Morrison had- how could he have tested the gauntlets? Reaper whirled about to demand answers-

_'The dropship has been successfully refueled. Estimated time of departure is t-minus seven minutes.'_

"Showtime!" Reinhardt roared, grinning as he came up behind both Reyes and Morrison and plopped his arms over their shoulders. "Are you ready, my friends? I am so ready to work beside you again!" His lower half was adorned in his armor, the upper half bare beyond a black, slightly-stained tanktop.

Oh, ow. Jack did wince this time, his lower back giving a nasty twinge of pain at the sudden weight. He patted the arm but slid out from under it as soon as he could, using the excuse of needing to grab his jacket. "Like old times."

Reaper stayed, again uncomfortably enjoying the closeness and warmth but unable to stand it for much longer than a few seconds. "Like old times." He agreed aloud. As he let the guns dissipate, he found his eyes straying across and locking with Ana's, the single sniper eye suddenly sharp. He could feel her stare right through him, as if she knew that the memories were gone, as if she knew that he had no idea what the 'old times' were like-

"Come on, then." Ana smiled as if nothing had occurred, motioning towards the exit. "It's time to retrieve Gimli."

\--

The troupe of four made for quite the image on their way up the path, Winston had to admit. Wartorn, scarred, and downright dangerous…it made him wish he was going with them. Once they had reached the ship, he nodded to them and walked beside Captain Amari to the briefing table in the belly of the transport. Brigitte sat nearby, arms crossed and nervously chewing on a piece of hair that dropped upon realizing they had company. Slowly, she made her way to the table, jumping when a blur snapped to her side but returning Tracer's smile all the same.

"All right team, gather 'round." Winston typed a few commands into the table, a holographic display soon floating above it of the Ironclad factory. "Brigitte was able to get some key intel from Torbjörn before the comm signals out of the facility were jammed. Null sector omnics have taken over the entrances here, here, and here-" he touched the areas, which immediately began to pulse red. "-and have begun production of further units inside. Our target is here." a circle within the display made the area turn a bright green.

Something about this tickled at the back of his mind, but Reaper shoved it aside. He couldn't afford another episode right now, especially without having a chance to fully process the last one. Instead-

_"The north wall is reinforced and full of turret fire. Unless you've got a suicide wish, that's a no go."_

-he- that- what? Reyes blinked. Lindholm? He knew that voice. Was that a part of a memory?

Winston drew a line from the drop zone towards the factory. "We'll come at the north wall, which they've left mostly unguarded, and enter the side door here-"

"No."

A silence fell over the table, every eye turning to him. Reaper exhaled in frustration. Here went nothing. "The north wall is lined with Ironclad security systems. It's why they've left it alone." It was a risk. It could be from a completely different memory, but-

"Wait, you're right." Brigitte blinked, then facepalmed. "I completely- that would have ended us right there." Of course the turrets were there! How had she looked past it? "I was trying to find a way in and- I just-" there had to be an actual way in, right? Distress poured off the younger Lindholm as she stared at the schematic. The entire plan had hinged on taking the north wall and she'd forgotten about the-

-a hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed. 

"Don't beat yourself up, kid." Gabriel half-smiled, squeezing again. "We'll find a way in."

…Oh god. He'd looked familiar but now with that look on his face, Brigitte actually recognized the mangled man before her in an instant. "Uncle Reyes?!" Before he could back off, she yanked him into a tight hug. " _Fan!_ Uncle Reyes, it _is_ you!"

Uh. Reaper blinked out of it, but this time…no, he could hang onto it. He carefully wrapped an arm around the woman and squeezed again (that's how this worked, right?). "Hey kid."

"Reyes." Ana eyed him, eyebrows raised. "How did we enter last time?"

_SHIT._ Reaper's teeth ground, eyelids squeezing shut as he forced himself to follow the itch in his head he'd felt before. Come on. Come on. Just had to keep getting lucky-

_"Lindholm, you know this place better than anyone." Gabriel's arms crossed, coolly watching the omnics come and go from the overrun facility. "If you don't know a way in, we're going to have to make one."_

_"Right, and how're ya going to go about that?" Torbjörn waved a wrench at him from where he was repairing a turret. "The entrances are blocked off. The foundation's reinforced. And yer not gonna get through those walls with any less than a drill bit th'size a' Reinhardt's hammer." The Swede snorted. "The metal one."_

_A muffled snicker echoed off to the side. Gabriel ignored Jack for the moment, again looking over the building. He pointed down at the roof. "Don't suppose we'll need a hammer to get through some glass."_

Please god let him not have said anything out loud. Reaper pulled back from the one-armed hug and reached out towards the table. The display turned with a flick of his hand- ha. HA! It was still fucking there. These WERE memories! _Yes!_

"I believe we dropped through a window."

\--

The dropship hummed, floor vibrating lightly as the agents milled about. Reinhardt was napping, form strapped into the seats to keep him from falling out, and his hammer sat strapped into a seat on his left side. On his right, Ana was leaned into his side and also fast asleep, chest rising and falling evenly as white hair flowed down onto the silver armor below it. Angela was busy in the cargo hold, going over their medical supplies one more time before 'landing' at their newly-decided drop zone. Tracer and Brigitte were up in the cockpit, chatting about the latest mission and how Emily was faring in London, the ship locked into autopilot as they switched to commenting on how incredible it was and how thankful they were that so many people had come back to life-

Jack leaned his neck back in his seat, legs splayed wide and arms crossed about his chest, eyes staring resolutely at the ceiling. Just like old times indeed. God, _if_ these were the old times, he and Gabe would be sniping at each other while going over the plan again, maybe playing a quick game of chess or even… Jack lowered his head to look over at Reinhardt and Ana again, expression softening. Funny how a decade apart could break the ice for those two. Maybe they'd even talk about their feelings for once. Ha- that certainly was a common trait here at Overwatch, wasn't it? He chanced a look over at Reyes, figuring the other was still going over his gauntlets like he had moments prior-

Ah shit. He'd been caught. Red eyes locked with his own. 

Morrison had been staring at him off and on for nearly the entire flight. Enough was enough. _"What."_

Best to lead with small talk perhaps? "You all right?"

…Was that what this was about? Reaper scoffed. "I'm fine. Nanites healed up the rest once-" _notmonkey_ "-Winston reactivated the remainder of the implants."

"…Good." Oh, this was going swell. Jack grimaced.

Fuck, this was awkward. "What about you?" That's what Reyes would do, right? Look out for his teammates-?

Uh. "What _about_ me?"

"Doomfist was using you as a ragdoll when I arrived." Reaper deadpanned, putting the fact that he'd arrived only to watch his Talon High Council associate wipe Soldier 76 off the map on the back burner. "You don't heal like I do."

"Gee, thanks." Now Jack was the one deadpanning, scoffing as he flexed one gloved hand, subconsciously choosing the one connected to his previously-dislocated shoulder. "I still heal faster than most." His neck still felt like a giant bruise, but the markings there had all but disappeared. Jack's head dipped down a bit. "…Thanks for asking though." His voice softened.

…Uncomfortable, Reaper looked away and intended to stay quiet. Reyes, however, was not apparently done. Instead of speaking normally, his raspy voice managed to gain a little melodic timbre as he sang under his breath. "That's what frieeeeeends aaaaaaare forrrrr."

Jack's head popped up. What! Had he just- "You nerd!" 

It was from a movie, he was fairly sure. Reyes smirked, side-eying Morrison. "Says the nerd."

"You're the one singing Disney shit." Jack sniggered, arms loosening and a hand raising to cover his grin. "Friggin' Shere Khan? Really?"

Ah. That was it. He languidly stretched, neck popping as Reyes hummed. "What, you'd prefer a barbershop quartet of vultures instead?"

"Oh my god." Okay. NOW it felt like old times. "Gabe-"

_"Team, we're five minutes from the drop! Everyone, be sure you're ready."_ Winston's voice echoed over the loudspeakers.

The moment broke, Reaper looking away with a grimace. What the hell? This wasn't something he'd normally do, was it? Of all the childish-

"Hey."

Reaper sighed and looked back- and nearly jumped back in alarm. Morrison was MUCH closer, having moved to the seat directly beside him while Winston spoke. "Uh-" This seemed close. Too close? Not…close enough?

_"What the hell do you mean, 'it's enough'?! You're not going to-" die? Gabriel stared down at Jack in dismay, breath wheezing through what was left of his nose, blood dripping down onto Jack's stained Strike Commander armor. He felt rather than heard the desk creak above them, gaze and attention locked on the strange determination suddenly on Jack's face. Hands buried into his hoodie, Gabe's eyes flying wide as he was yanked down into a-_

"Gabe."

Reyes jolted, swallowing thickly. What the hell had _that_ been?! "Uh." He replied intelligently. "…What."

A clenched hand pressed against his shoulder, a mock punch without any weight. "I've got your six."

His six. His- he _remembered_ this. Gabriel looked up, determined. "And I've got yours."

Ana smiled warmly, unseen, and closed her eye again before leaning back into Reinhardt. Time was all they needed. That, and to get over themselves. Silly old men.

\---

"Everyone ready?" Winston bent a peanut butter jar between his hands, twisting it back and forth as he watched the agents prep through the dropship's screens. He'd wanted to go with them, but with no one else left to guard the base…it fell to him to stay behind and guide from afar. "Comms on. Sound off."

"Tracer here!" Came Lena's cheerful chirp.

"Reinhardt at your service!"

"Soldier 76 reporting for duty."

"Ana checking in."

"Mercy on call."

"Brigitte at your service."

"Rea-" an odd pause and a shuffle. "Reyes here."

Good, that was everyone. "Tracer, bring the ship around into position. Shields up. Reinhardt, are you ready?"

"YES! Shield engaged." The bright blue filled the entryway as the door began to open. 

"Just like in Rio. Drop!" Winston watched, breath held as the Crusader jumped from the craft, shield angled downward…into the window Reyes had pointed out on the roof. The glass shattered and the armored man dropped into factory like a wrecking ball. "Report!"

"I believe they know we are here now." Pinging through the channel spoke of gunfire deflecting off Reinhardt's shield. "Hurry, my friends!"

Mercy dropped first, wings folded as she dove into the hole, Ana dropping from her arms to the ground in a roll. Brigitte was not far behind them, shield smashing into the ground as her godfather had done before her and quickly bounding to her feet with mace in hand. The soldier opted to drop and roll onto the roof first, then slide and drop into the hole. Interesting choice. Reaper watched from above, then let himself fall off the edge of the ramp backwards. A bodylength away from the dropship, he dissolved into smoke. The feeling was always disorienting, as if he had a million eyes about him instead of just two, but he'd only ever done this a thousand times before. He reformed behind Reinhardt, shotguns raised-

_The omnics, you idiot! You're on their side. Don't shoot them. Shoot the omnics!_

…Shit. Reyes re-aimed and fired, knocked one of the omnics away from where it had tried to jump Ziegler, the next shot blasting back the front of a new wave of attacks. Had to stay focused. Had to remember who his allies were-!

"Torbjörn's lockdown is a hundred meters west of your current position. Move out if you can!" Winston raised the lid without realizing it, chewing at the lip. "Lena, move out of firing range- we'll need you at the ready."

"Aye aye!"

"Brigitte, clear a path. Reinhardt, forge ahead as best you can. Everyone stick together!"

Easier said than done. The omnics were descending on them from all sides, Reaper hissing as he knocked another two back before having to reload. He tossed the 'guns' to the sides, the hard light returning to his gauntlets before he reached for two more, barrels already firing by the time they'd left his sides. The progress was slow, until-

"Everyone stand clear!" Soldier 76, visor glowing menacingly, shoved himself forward of the shield and ran clear at the opposite wall. He goddamn parkoured up it for a moment, his free hand shooting out halfway up and grabbing the railing of a balcony a story off the ground, swinging himself onto it. The rifle aimed down into the fray- and fired. The resounding blast of pulse rockets from behind cleared a swath of a path, the rest of the team dashing forward…except 76, who was suddenly dealing with an onslaught of very angry omnics. 

"Jack, get down here!" Ana knocked one of the omnics off the balcony with careful shot to its arm socket, another sent reeling backwards by a keen shot to the neck.

The butt end of the rifle knocked another back. Shit, there were too many. "Just go- I'll catch up with you!"

Like hell he would. Ana made to protest…until she noticed a familiar shape forming beside him. Oh. Well, that would do.

_"Death comes-"_ Reaper shadowstepped into the fray, shotguns knocking back bots one-by-one. Now THIS felt right. Being a part of that team had felt clunky and downright boring, but here? This was what he lived for. He stepped back one step, his spine pressing into something odd. What- 

"Just like old times." Soldier 76 rumbled, vibrating through them both where they stood back to back, pulse rifle knocking back omnic after omnic. "Thought we graduated from omnics a while ago though."

"Must have missed a required prerequisite class." Six more- reload guns. A bullet skimmed his arm, the flesh repairing itself almost instantly. "You know how picky they are these days about graduation."

"Ha!" An omnic got in a lucky hit, knocking Jack's head to the side before he could retaliate with a swift kick, sending the bot flying off the balcony. "Ready to move? I've got an opening."

"Go." Reaper dissolved as 76 jumped, the two charging back towards the rest of the team. It felt…weirdly familiar in _not-bad_ ways. Not great either, but…not bad. Defending Morrison wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Fighting by his side didn't pain him bone-deep like he'd always imagined it would. The comradery was easy, their fighting style complimentary, and-

And-

A sharp ringing filled his ears. Reaper froze, smoke snapping together to reform as he fought against the memory pulling at this eyelids. "No- no no-"

He'd stopped. Why had he stopped?! Jack skidded to a stop, staring at Gabriel. "We need to keep moving!" What was- "Gabe?"

Reaper stumbled…and the darkness swallowed him whole.

\--

"Are you sure they'll be all right?" Uncle Morrison and Uncle Reyes were still back there, after all. Brigitte whacked a few omnics back as they neared the door.

"Those two are good at getting into trouble, but they're also surprisingly good at getting out of it." Ana nodded to Brigitte, sleep-darting an omnic who had tried to jump on Reinhardt's back, the metal body instead dropping like a rock to the ground from midair. "Let's worry about your father first before we deal with those two numbskulls."

"I have located the door!" The shield dropped, Reinhardt's hammer slamming home into the door. Beams of light connected with the crusader's back, the German giving a war cry of delight. "You honor me!"

"Powered up. You're ready to do some damage!" Mercy landed, sticking behind Brigitte's shield as Reinhardt literally knocked his way in. Once, twice, three times- and the door flew inward. She switched to healing beam, the light soothing the crusader's aches and pains before switching to her fellow Overwatch ladies. They'd made it! Despite everything- "Where is Torbjörn?"

Reinhardt rounded the corner- and screeched to a halt, his shield going up instantly. "BASTION!" Bullets thundered against the barrier, the surface cracking in seconds.

"What?!" Brigitte jumped forward to peer through the shield, eyes going wide. "Papa?"

The rounds died out, bullet casings pitter-pattering against the floor…and an almost-apologetic 'doo-wooo' sounded from inside the next room.

"It's all right. Ya didn't know." Came a tired voice from behind the Bastion, a metal arm patting the bot's side. "Plus, Wil has his shield so it wasn' like you could do 'em much harm."

"Lindholm?" Reinhardt stared at the Bastion wide-eyed, then at the man behind it. "Torbjörn!"

"Eh, that's m'name." Torbjörn appeared, standing beside the Bastion that seemed to curiously peek at the newcomers. "Look at this. What'd you all do, bring Overwatch back from th'grave to keep me outta mine?"

Brigitte shoved forward, disregarding the Bastion and pulling her father into a tight hug. "You made me worry. _Fan_ , Papa." 

"You're makin' a chicken out of a feather." The elder Lindholm grumbled as his daughter checked him over. "Just a few bumps n' bruises." 

"I can take care of those." Angela strode forward, healing beam centered on the engineer. "It's good to see you."

"And you, Ang." Torbjörn's eye zeroed in on the fourth member of the party, staring. "What? That can't be-"

Ana stepped forward, mouth opening in a fond greeting-

"76 here- I need back-up! Reyes isn't responding. _Gabe, what the hell?!_ Is anyone nearby?"

\--

_King's Row, London- 2047_

_Charges were nearly set. All they had to do now was get clear. Commander Reyes moved to wipe what data he could from the harddrives of the omnium when his comm crackled. Static dulled to a soft hiss, his brow creasing. That was odd. "E.T.A. over there?"_

_"Three minutes!" Jack's voice echoed back._

_Good. That should be plenty of time to-_

_**'Gabriel Reyes.'** _

_The soldier just about jumped out of his skin. The voice in his comm unit was electronic, smooth, and lilting. This…was not the resident God AI he'd heard over through the omnic heads before. He swallowed, trying to clear his suddenly raw throat. "Who am I speaking to?"_

_**'I wish for you to discover a secret that they have tried to hide.'** The voice seemed almost soothing. Gabriel's hackles wanted to raise, they really did, but nothing about the voice seemed threatening at all. **'You were the one to discover how they control the omnic-kind.'**_

_"The command and control protocol." Now he was all ears. Gabriel turned, his back to the blinking hard drive._

_**'The very same. What if I were to tell you that those you call God AI run on a similar core processing unit?'** _

_What? But that would mean- "Something is controlling the God AI?" Gabriel hissed. "Or someone?"_

_**'Or somewhat.'** The voice appeared to agree, despite its odd wording._

_There WAS something linking them all together. He'd suspected it for some time, but he'd never found the proof he needed to put together the pieces. "Tell me who you are!"_

_**'Do not fear, Gabriel Reyes. I am on your side.** The voice echoed through the comms, the lights of the hard drive all flashing bright before cutting out completely and swathing the room in darkness. **'I am the Iris.'**_

_The Iris? What the hell-_

_"Commander, this place is about to blow. We need to move!" Ana Amari dashed into view. "…Commander?"_

_The voice- the Iris- was gone. Gabriel exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a lot to digest. "Right. Everyone outside."_

_The pincer movement was an unexpected one from the omnic forces. The God programs were learning perhaps **too** quickly-_

CLANG

Disoriented, Reaper dropped to the ground in a heap. What- what had- where- Iris? Fumbling, he managed to get on his side, noting the large steel drum dented where his head had apparently hit. What had-

EPISODE! He'd had another damn episode and he'd…there was a….

Across the factory floor from him, Soldier 76 was sprawled out on the ground in a fetal position, rocking slightly, one arm wrapped around his front so that both hands could press into a spot on his lower back. The pulse rifle sat meters away, the soldier groaning incomprehensibly. No tanks in sight- there was really only one option as to who had thrown him into the drum. Reaper staggered up to his feet dazedly. Omnics were closing in…but only on 76. Reyes watched with wide eyes as they circled the soldier with weapons drawn. This was his chance. No one would know. Morrison would be killed in the crossfire and no one would ever be the wiser. He'd be FREE of the man, completely free. Jack was looking up at him, he could tell from the tilt of the visor-

All he had to do was nothing and he'd be free.


	7. Chapter 7

_A few minutes earlier…_

"76 here- I need back-up! Reyes isn't responding. _Gabe, what the hell?!_ Is anyone nearby?"

He shook Gabriel bodily by the shoulders again, Jack growling in frustration. Everything had been going fine! They'd been seconds away from catching up with the others when Gabe had frozen in place and asked aloud for the 'E.T.A.'. The omnics closed in, Jack shoving the two of them off to the side and behind some crates in an effort to figure out what had occurred. 

"The command and control protocol." Gabe said almost-attentively, the words making no goddamn sense. Jack hissed and shoved his hand over the man's mouth, further words mumbling behind his palm as omnics searched for them nearby. What the fuck was happening? 

He had to jolt Gabriel out of this. NOW. Jack surveyed the part of the factory they were stuck in and near-groaned. This had to be some sort of supply area, all crates and drums and-

"76, I read you! What's happening?" Winston's voice filtered through the comm, the gorilla's voice alarmed. "What did Reyes do?"

"He froze-" shit, more omnics. Jack pulled back, turning off his visor to keep the units from seeing the glow across the crates they hid behind. "It's like he's stuck inside his own head." Another mumble sounded behind his hand, the soldier searching the glazed eyes for any sign of recognition. Where had he seen this before? …Zurich? But Gabe hadn't frozen like this, not until he'd-

"What? I don't remember reading anything about that in his medical files." Frantic typing began in the background. "See if you can get somewhere safe and hole up until the rest of the team can get to you. I'll see if I can find something to-"

They'd run out of time.

Three omnic units rounded the corner of the crates, time slowing to a crawl as Jack quickly deduced the best course of action. He had to knock the bots back and get Gabriel back in his own head…but attacking would attract attention. Then again, defending would also attract attention. Maybe if he could keep that attention on _him_ and not on Gabe, it would give the man a chance to recover-

It clicked. Quickly, he raised a hand to flick his visor back on, the omnics raising their guns with an electronic growl. Instead of reaching for his own pulse rifle though, Jack twisted his old friend in front of him, hefting the man up like a javelin- and throwing him bodily through the omnics, knocking them onto their asses while Reyes sailed across the room and ended the trip a bit unceremoniously with his head against one of the drums. Cognitive recalibration. That ought to do the-

"A-a-GH-" Jack dropped, barely holding in the scream of pain as shots knocked into and through his body armor, laser fire searing into the still-healing wound in his right lower back. It burned into and up his spine, the soldier spasming on the ground as the omnic who'd shot him dropped from the crates above. He hadn't been watching his six. Ha- too used to somebody else doing it for him-

His eyes flicked across the way, focusing blearily on the fact that Gabriel appeared to be getting up, stumbling but seemingly much more awake than before. There was a moment where it felt like their eyes met-

-the omnics closed in around him, blocking Gabe from view. Well, hell. Was this it? Shit. Jack hissed, hands pressing against the wound, ebony-tinted blood trickling down his gloves. He hadn't gotten to end the war. But…he'd mostly patched things up with Gabriel. Instead of causing another death, he'd saved one. That was worth something, right? Jack's chin lifted defiantly, glaring the omnics down as the rifles raised-

-yeah. That was worth everything.

BANG. BANG-B-BANG-BANG-BANG-

\---

"Did I just hear 'Reyes' and 'Gabe' come outta yer comm?" Torbjörn scoffed, armor shifting as he jogged beside the rest of them. "What've you all been smoking?"

"It's not a trick, Papa. Uncle Reyes is alive!" Brigitte charged out of the door, knocking back an omnic that had tried to peek in. "Just like Uncle Morrison and-"

"Uncle MORRISON?!"

"It's true. Jack's a grumpy old man but he's still kicking." Ana shot off a few rounds from behind their new Bastion unit, understandably wary of the omnic but willing to trust if Torbjörn was. Truly, it must have taken a real miracle for the former Ironclad engineer to team up with a Bastion. What a story that must be-!

…Oh no. She was starting to sound like Reinhardt. Ana shook her head, grimacing. "He and Gabriel were using the omnics as target practice while we came to get you."

"…That sounds like them." The Swede admitted, an odd mix of disdain, sorrow, and disbelief painting his features. "We all thought you three were dead."

Leave it to Lindholm to get straight to the point. Ana fired off another shot, knocking an omnic off some high-stacked crates to the side. My, they were getting inventive now. "Well, I'm not sure about Jack and Gabriel, but I _had_ to come back." She pushed at the Swede's shoulder playfully before going back to reloading. "I was worried you'd get bored not being able to stick your nose in my business."

"PFAH! You two are hilarious." Reinhardt grinned, shield at near-full strength. The smile faded a little. "Is it just me or does getting out seem easier than getting in? Where did they all go?"

"Hopefully, those two didn't bite off more than they could chew." Mercy tried again to comm Jack, but received no response. "We need to get to their position as soon as we-"

A series of gunshots echoed down the warehouse, the team freezing in their tracks. No. That couldn't have been…?

"I'm flying ahead! Quickly- move to their last known position and I'll call out any new information I can find. GO!" The wings spread wide, golden light flashing as Angela tore off towards the sound, pistol drawn in case she needed it. Let her not be too late-?!

\--

All he had to do was nothing and he'd be free.

All- he had to do-

Teeth gritted. Just…do nothing. Do NOTHING!

_Jack is going to die if you don't do something._

He wanted Morrison dead, didn't he?

_"I've got your six."_

Wasn't this the plan-? Wasn't this what he'd been aiming for the entire time-?

_"Fuck, Gabe." Morrison's voice was muffled and wet from where the head leaned into his Blackwatch-armored shoulder. "It's like Zurich didn't even happen-"_

Didn't he want them all to burn? Soldier 76 was on his list! They ALL were!

_A muffled disembodied voice filtering through the echo chamber- "I'm fine. Help Gabriel, damnit. I'm f-fine."_

Dead! He wanted Morrison DEAD!

_"Go." Jack gazed up at him, fear and a quiet acceptance taking hold of those familiar blue eyes. A hand was on Gabriel's head, fingers gently stroking across his scalp. "It's okay, Gabe. It's okay."_

...

...No.

NO.

It was NOT OKAY. Fuck- shit-

He wanted Morrison _alive!_

Shotguns were yanked out of midair, form shadowstepping straight through the metallic circle of soldiers. The bots seemed to reel back for a moment, giving him plenty of time to gather his nanites in a swirling cloud around his lower half.

_"Die! Die! DIE!"_ Gabriel snarled, shotguns blasting them back one-by-one into scrap heaps. More of the omnics tried to swarm in, but they became casualties of the fray, the Reaper pushing himself further than he had in ages in order to keep them at bay. The hardlight bullets could only re-generate rapidly for so long though and he was finally forced to stop to let the gauntlets cool down. Omnic bodies lay strewn about the crates, the ground more silver than grey concrete.

…Well. Except for one red, white, and blue mess of a man literally beneath his feet.

Reyes swiveled, moving from standing over the soldier to standing beside him, then dropped to a crouch with one gun raised to his shoulder. "Hey. You alive?"

"Mostly." Jack groaned softly, head lifting up from the ground only to drop back down, dirt smudging the white hair. "Thanks for the save." For a second there, he'd thought he was toast.

"Somebody had to save your ass." Scoffing, he reached out a hand. "You can nap later. On your feet, soldier."

"Not sure about that." Every movement sent further fire up his back and down into his legs. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Jack knew he'd overdone it. Should have gotten the body armor fixed better after Cairo, should have let Ziegler try to work on the wound like she'd offered upon his original discharge from the medbay a few days ago- eh. Shoulda coulda woulda. Whatever. It was what it was. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to give me a lift?"

"JACK!" Mercy landed on his other side, pistol aimed at the Reaper over top of him. 

Reyes merely quirked a brow. "He's bleeding out. Don't suppose you have anything for that?" He snarked, the smirk fading as he rose up, guns at the ready. An omnic was trying to climb that crate- he'd seen the metal gleam over the edge for a moment. "I'll cover while you fix him."

…She…what? Angela stared. Hadn't the Reaper caused this? Hadn't he-

"Ziegler." Jack hissed through his teeth. "If you have anything for this, let's see it _quickly._ "

She'd have to sort through all of this later. Mercy shoved her pistol back into its holster, pulling forth her staff instead and activating the biotic stream. A quick scan showed internal damage, the wound hemorrhaging- oh no. "It hit your-"

"Yeah-" he winced, one leg twitching as Jack attempted to shift to a more comfortable position on the concrete. "Don't suppose it's working-?"

Angela let the stream run a little longer before she shut it off, swearing under her breath. "No." She admitted, voice quiet with trepidation. "Not even slightly." The area in question had resisted all earlier efforts to seal shut and, with the flesh rent once more by the new injuries, it was all she could do to keep the damage contained. "Stay still. I'll bandage it and treat you once we're back on the dropship."

"What about Lindholm?" The shotguns dropped, Reyes pulling another two from his sides as the spent munitions faded into thin air, red eyes scanning for further targets. "Were you able to locate him?"

Speak of the devil-

Footsteps thundered over, double barrels pointing their way- and dropping when he saw who had arrived. "About time." The mercenary huffed.

" _Fan!_ Reyes, you ugly son of a bitch, it IS you!" Torbjörn almost smiled. "What th'hell did ya do to Morrison _this_ time?"

He made to respond, but his gaze shifted back next to Reinhardt and immediately froze. _Pounding, POUNDING-_ "BASTION! Get down!" Reaper swung the shotguns up, aiming for the metallic head. The blast would tear that thing clean off…if the sudden shield wasn't in the way. He glared at Brigitte. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Papa found him in the woods. He's fixed up now." Torbjörn's eldest didn't budge, shield held high to cover the omnic's uppermost parts, Brigitte's form shifting to stand in front of Bastion to keep him from harm. "He's on our side! Would you shoot a teammate?"

A teammate-?! That was as ridiculous as claiming that Torbjörn would fix up a Bastion in the first place. Reaper moved to argue, but Reinhardt stepped up and in front of him instead.

"I don't like it either." The crusader admitted, voice weary. "But at this point, there is no point arguing. How is Jack?"

So they were just going to let a Bastion come with them _into the dropship_?! That surely wasn’t a recipe for disaster. Reaper reluctantly lowered the shotguns, exhaling sharply. "He should be on his feet shortly."

"Not exactly." Mercy stood, expression grim. "We need to get him to the dropship as soon as possible." She hefted the pulse rifle with a bit of effort, handing it over to the crusader. "I don't suppose you can carry this on the way back, Reinhardt?"

What…? Why-? Reyes moved around her, crouching again by his old teammate's side. Jack was pale even behind the visor, one hand still gripping his side while the other clenched and unclenched slowly on the ground. That wasn't a great sign. He remembered back in SEP when-

-when he- remembered- SEP? Reyes blinked. Were the memories coming back? He felt like he could recall the edges of a few; a blonde, blue-eyed kid dropping for push-ups, tubes and syringes and the smell of disinfectant that lingered, feverish nights and chills that racked them both to the bone-

Gabriel leaned forward, hooking arms under the leather jacket shoulders and usually-sturdy kneecaps and lifting up. Jack was easy to lift, but the _sound_ he made upon leaving the ground was somewhere between a scream and a wheeze. Again, not a great sign. But the white-haired head curled up and into his neck, Reyes watching carefully as a hand latched onto the front of his armor as if it were an anchor. Ha- maybe it was good that the damn armor was too tight. It would at least give Jack something sturdy to hold onto-

"Gabriel?" Ana sounded confused and surprised.

He turned, arms full of Jack, and stared down the rest of the team. "Let's move."

\--

It was too quiet. Those blasted Null Sector abominations had overrun this place. Why the sudden reprieve? Torbjörn glanced suspiciously around the silent crates. "I don't like this." He'd been stuck for three days in that blasted room, Bastion his lone companion as they knocked back bot after bot. It was good, undoubtedly, that his metal associate had no problem shooting down his own brethren. There had been quite a few to go through, after all. But now…nothing.

It was unsettling. Mercy sprang up to get a better look around the facility, eyes wandering about the floor. Not an omnic was to be seen. Something stank of a trap. "We need to get clear of this place."

"They welded the back doors shut and I don't suppose the rest of the warehouse is much better." Torbjörn shook his head. "Reinhardt might be able to use his thick head on it. Might do the trick."

"Ah, could you say that again? Sometimes its hard to hear you all the way down there!" The crusader teased, face again growing somber after a moment. "I feel it too though. Yes, let's try the back doors."

"I'll have Tracer head that way as well. No signs of movement outside the warehouse." Winston reported, worry creasing his brow. They still didn't know what had happened with Reyes, they were down one agent, and now the omnics had disappeared? "I'll keep you all updated." The mission debrief would be a long one, he could tell. First though, they all needed to get back home safely.

The team made their way through the warehouse, wary of every sound. Nothing hindered them as they reached the back exit, the eight hypervigilant as the two Lindholm engineers inspected the seal around the doors. "It's solid. For omnics, they did a remarkably non-shoddy job. No offense, Bastion." The elder Swede tossed over his shoulder.

"Sh-sh-sh dwee!" Bastion replied back, managing to sound amused and nearly indignant.

Not far from them all, Reyes leaned back against one of the crates and slid down, bracing Morrison in his lap as they sank to the ground. The position felt intimate, uncomfortably so. But he could feel Jack's heartbeat thudding against his chest, the sensation welcome despite the circumstances. He did, Reyes thought wearily, actually want Morrison alive. Why? No idea. All he knew was that the soldier wasn't going to die on his watch. …It made the soft gurgle-wheeze in his ear all the more alarming.

"Hey." He shifted the man slightly, wincing as Jack stifled an outburst of pain. "Why can't Ziegler heal you?"

Jack took a moment to respond, and when he did Reyes felt the cold visor press tighter against his neck. "Necrosis- from the other wound. Been spreading internally."

Other wound? What other wound? Lower back, right side- had Doomfist-

_Right here, Jack._

…What? No. That wasn't possible. That had been weeks ago and hell, it wouldn't cause necrosis what with Jack's healing abilities. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Damn." Jack huffed a quiet laugh. "And here I'd been h-hoping you might have some answers." His head rolled, leaning against the armored shoulder wearily. Gabriel was so _warm_ , the two of them so close that he wished he could appreciate it more. But given the- circumstances-

What the hell was that?

Jack squinted up at the roof, blinking. That had looked like- 

"Gabe." He watched the flickering motions as sunlight streamed downwards. "Is that- are those what I think they are?"

"What?" Following his gaze, Reyes attempted to make sense of the query. Moments later, he realized exactly what he was seeing. Eyes snapped wide, finger flying to his comm.  
"The omnics are on the ROOF!"

"What?!" Winston pulled up the surveillance footage again, zooming in. Oh. Oh NO. The entire surface had appeared to be solid from afar, but now- now he could see the hundreds- no, THOUSANDS of squirming, swarming forms huddled over the roof. "Lena, pull back!"

"Well that's a right pickle!" The dropship, on its way for rendezvous, swooped back up into the sky. Tracer shook her head at the display Winston sent her way. "How're we supposed to get through that?" If she got too close, the mass of omnics could swarm the craft and rip it apart. But if she didn't get in there, the rest of the team would be overwhelmed as soon as they were outside!

"Once we clear the doors, come down and pick us up." Ana sternly ordered over the comms, watching from the corner of her eye as Gabriel rose from the ground, Jack still firmly held to his chest. "We have a small window here- let's use it."

"This whole mission is all about windows, isn't it?!" Reinhardt gave a mighty laugh, letting Brigitte get him into position. "You know, I'm not going to be able to carry this. Perhaps we should make your father carry it, ja?" He set down the pulse rifle and patted it, the hammer instead hefted in his hand.

"I'll take care of it." Ana stepped forward, foot nudging the large gun on her way over. But instead of picking the rifle up, she padded to the German's side and looked the armor over. "…Ah ha. That will do." She poked her finger into a chink in the metal.

The crusader near-squeaked in dismay. "ACK! That is- do not press there! That is-" he lowered his voice, uncharacteristically serious as his eyes twinkled. "-very ticklish."

"Reinhardt! Are you ready?" Winston chewed further into the peanut butter lid he'd used as a stress ball the past half hour, the plastic warped and mangled.

"YES! I- uh- absolutely!" Pink dusted his cheeks, the armored man saluting upwards. Brigitte facepalmed, head shaking.

"Great. Er, okay. Torbjörn, how is the door looking?"

"Solid as ever. We'll need a good hit here." The Swede motioned to the large X he and he daughter had hammered into the door with mace and wrench. "Had your eyes checked recently, Wil? Think you can hit that?"

"Ha HA! _Can_ I!" 

"On the count of three." Winston fidgeted with the lid, eyes on the swarming rooftop. "One-"

Reyes felt the memory sweep over him in a soft wave, barely cresting his consciousness this time. In the back of his mind, a charging crusader jumped the gun once more, unable to wait for the count to end. He glanced down at Jack, the corner of his lip pulling up. "Two."

Ha. Jack tilted his head up, eyes barely visible through the visor. "Three."

_Snikt!_ A syringe stuck out from the chink in the armor. Ana slung her gun over her back, stooping to grab the pulse rifle. "You're powered up- get in there!"

Mercy swooped upwards, her staff's stream shifting color as it locked onto Reinhardt. "Damage amplified."

A literal roar shook Reinhardt's armor, the metal near-vibrating with power. _"I AM UNSTOPPABLE!!"_ With a blast of fire, the man rocketed forward- and straight through the wall, the metal giving a shriek that ripped the air.

"We're through! Everyone, MOVE!" Ana shouted, feet lightning across the ground.

"Tracer, dive!" The roof had begun to move, sensing a shift in the situation below. "Get them out of there!" Winston stared bleakly at the screen, half-gnawing on the lid.

The blast of sunlight as they shot out was blinding enough. Reyes blinked wildly to clear his vision, knowing without looking behind that they were about to be overrun. He pulled Jack in tighter to himself, head raised to search the skies for their transport. Damnit, where was the-

True to its name, the ship literally _dropped out of the sky_. Reinhardt managed to slow himself barely in time to skid to a halt, ducking under the craft and making his way to the team's back as it came within inches of the ground. The shield opened just in time, shots raining down on them from above. "We're about to have company!"

"Everybody IN!" The ramp slammed open. Tracer didn't have to tell them twice, every agent sprinting inside…except Reinhardt, who backed up slowly to keep the shield over the entrance to the ship. The barrier cracked, the crusader wincing. It wasn't going to hold-

Shifting metal sounded behind him, a tremor of fear shooting up Reinhardt's spine that he hadn't felt in ages. But before he could turn to confront said fear head-on, the bullets began to pound around him.

…Around him?

"REINHARDT! Let's go!" Brigitte nearly threw a nearby medkit at the back of his head. "We have to go!"

Fine! He turned, stomach seizing at the sight of the Bastion in turret mode- and forced himself to run past it into the belly of the craft. Never had he expected to face down one of them again…or be defended by one. That was, admittedly, what it seemed to be doing as it mowed down rows of descending omnics-

"HOLD ON!" The dropship angled upwards and shot off, its occupants scrambling for a handhold as the ramp closed and the transport rocketed them to safety. Bastion gave an electric wail as it stopped firing, barely managing to pull out of turret mode in time to brace itself against the far wall it had been falling towards.

It took a minute or so, but finally the craft levelled off. Torbjörn was sprawled out on top of Reinhardt, who had hit the back wall and was still laughing from the adrenaline spiking his system. Brigitte and Ana, both having grabbed the side of a seat upon Lena's warning, picked themselves up and traded fond smiles. They'd made it! Every single one of them.

"Jack?" He'd forced himself to take the brunt of the impact, but it couldn't have been pleasant to jar that injury. Reyes scowled, reaching up one-handed to grab the front of the visor and yank it free. "Jack, what are you-"

Blood dribbled out of pale lips, the soldier's eyes closed and neck limp. Gabriel's chest constricted, leather jacket creaking in his grasp as he bolted up to his feet. "ZIEGLER!"

"I'm here! Bring him here." Angela levered a medical bed out of the wall, typing commands into the makeshift medbay, Jack's blood type flashing on the screen momentarily before the requested blood bag was retrieved. "On his stomach. Let's see if I can repair the damage."

Of course, she'd seen the wound when Jack had first been brought in to Gibraltar and caught a glimpse as she'd bandaged Jack up on the floor of the warehouse. Up close, it looked much, MUCH worse. As she pulled back the jacket and shirt, the doctor hissed. The necrosis had spread wildly, digging into flesh and leaving black, dead flesh in its wake. Burn marks from the laser fire were revealed with the removal of the temporary bandages, scarred flesh on scarred flesh. How on earth was she going to treat this?

That looked like…no. It couldn't be. Reaper stared at the wound, head tilting slowly to one side. Sure, his nanites occasionally hitched rides on his hardlight bullets, reaping from those they latched onto before returning to him. But this…not only did it appear that his nanites had fastened themselves onto Jack, they had also _multiplied_. He certainly wasn't receiving any energy back from this new colony either. It was like it had grown...independent of him. Which…wasn't possible.

_How_ was that possible? Stranger still, how had he not noticed that part of him had separated off and was now living _on Jack like a set of leeches_?

Still, it should be easy enough to remove them. Reyes cleared his throat, Ziegler's eyes snapping up to glare at him before he motioned downwards. "I can fix this."

Angela prepared to manually begin a blood transfusion, hoping that the new material might trick Jack's body into accepting the biotics. It was a theory she had to try, and it might even buy him some time. He- what? She froze. "…How."

"In theory." Usually, he wouldn't have to call the nanites back- it was an automatic process. But maybe if he could just- Gabriel pulled off his left gauntlet and lowered his hand down onto the bare skin. Now, all he had to do was-

"FUCK!" Reaper shrieked, making every occupant of the transport jump. Blinding pain shot through his hand, every ounce of willpower needed to keep it in place. Even so, he reached for the side of the bed with his other hand, the metal warping under his clenching fist. At first, there didn't seem to be a difference at all. But then…the 'necrosis' began to peel off of Jack's skin, rising up into the air like smoke that streamed over and into Reyes's form. God, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt-

The pain eased, his hand shaking as he lifted it. Black spots no longer lingered across Jack's skin, the reddened skin bruising but not appearing as infected or angry as before. A soft golden light streamed down, Reyes hissing quietly as he edged away, hand tucked into his chest as it continued to throb, but his attention soon turned to the wounds. Torn flesh eased back together, old stitches falling from the skin.

"Die wunder der modernen medizin." Angela murmured. The nanites- why hadn't she considered Reaper's nanites as the source of Jack's genetic corruption around the wound? It made so much sense. "Thank you, Rea-" no. "Reyes." She owed him that, at least.

"Mm." Carefully, he sat down at the side of the bed and watched as color began to come back to the soldier's face, bloodflow from the gunfire wound slowing to an ooze before ceasing completely. Damn, Jack had been fighting with this the entire time? It was a wonder he'd held his own at all against Doomfist.

_He wanted Jack Morrison to live._ It echoed again in his head, Reyes exhaling in frustration. Yet another problem to work his way through, another hindrance to his mission. But hell, Morrison was supposed to be his ally, right? Grimacing, he reached out with his still-pained hand and wrapped it around Jack's before he could think better of the gesture. Fingers squeezed, the nanites pulsing within his skin as if they ached to get out and latch right back onto the soldier. He'd need to keep an eye on that too. Great.

"You're so much damn trouble." Gabriel grumbled down at the unconscious man, reclining back into the nearby chair even as he continued to hold the limp hand in his. It was fine. This was fine. Jack was going to recover and he'd…Gabriel…oddly felt more like himself than he had in ages.

Breathe.

_Breathe._

…Somehow, every piece of that thought felt right.


End file.
